Wishful Thinking
by TheGoldenSeraphim
Summary: AU after OotP. Remus and a few others of the Order discover that Dumbledore has been lying to them. He and a group of likeminded Order members strive to undo the damage Dumbledore has done. But it might just be too late to fix things... ON HIATUS.
1. By My Soul

**Wishful Thinking**

Prologue – By My Soul

_October 31st, 1981_

The tone of a bell sounded through Godric's Hollow, reverberating through the still air. Silently, James Potter strode up the stairs to the nursery, his face set in a stern mask. He placed a hand lightly on the door and pushed it open, stepping through into the small, bright room.

Lily Evans Potter looked up from the rocking chair in the corner, tears sparkling in her eyes. "It'll be tonight, won't it?" she asked quietly, gazing down at the bundle of blankets wrapped in her arms.

James nodded shortly and lifted her up, sitting down in the rocking chair before settling her in his lap. Lily sighed happily and leaned back in his arms as James placed his hands over hers, stroking lightly at little Harry's bangs. "We'll be ready for him, Lily," he promised.

"I know," she whispered, tears still swimming in her eyes. "But I'm so scared…. James, what if something goes wrong? What if we die? We can't leave him!"

"We won't," James said resolutely. "We _won't_, Lily." Taking a deep breath, he nudged Lily to her feet and slid the ceremonial dagger from his robes. "Are you ready?"

Lily gulped as she looked at the dagger. She sobbed once and cradled her son to her chest, pressing her lips gently to his forehead. Silently, she gazed at him, brushing the hair from his face.

She looked up with a hard, determined gaze. "I'm ready," she replied evenly, and James nodded.

He turned and walked down the stairs, and Lily followed, their baby held in her arms.

* * *

They placed him on a small pile of blankets at the base of the altar they had built in the woods. Silently, the couple stared at the rising sun, their eyes cool and flat. In his left hand, James Harold Potter still held the ceremonial dagger, and when he looked down at his son, his fingers clenched around the handle.

"By my blood, by my magic, by my soul, I swear to protect you," he intoned, lifting the dagger and slicing his palm diagonally, flinching slightly as blood welled up on his skin. Wincing, he passed the knife to his wife, who smiled at him grimly as she placed the knife against her own skin.

"By my blood, by my magic, by my soul, I swear to protect you," she murmured, and with a quick jerk of the knife, she slit her own palm, lifting it to link hands with her husband. Their blood mingled and a soft glow appeared, a nimbus of light ringing their joined hands. Slowly, James stepped forward to stand at Lily's shoulder, and the two wrapped their hands around the dagger, James's hand resting over Lily's on the hilt.

They made a shallow cut on little Harry's forehead, the jagged shape of a lightning bolt, right above and between his beautiful emerald eyes. Too startled to cry, the infant stared up at his parents, shock glittering in his eyes.

"We bind ourselves to you until your task is complete," they said together, "until your mission and your life are fulfilled. So mote it be."

The nimbus of light grew to engulf their son, and Lily trembled as her baby began to cry. The light brightened, then shrank to a thin, faint line before shooting down and into the cut on Harry's forehead. The lightning bolt cut glowed green for a moment, then disappeared.

Lily picked up her baby with a cry of relief, cradling him in her arms. James wrapped his arms around them both, clinging to them desperately.

They went back into the house together, neither noticing the man who stood at the edge of the forest, his eyes dark and turbulent as the couple disappeared into the small cottage.

The man sighed, his hand stroking his long beard, and turned on his heel, vanishing into thin air.

_This, _he mused, _will take some thought._

* * *

He wasn't going to win. 

James Potter knew that, and yet he fought. Listening carefully for the sound of Apparition, he waited desperately for his wife to escape with their son. But no such sound came. He swore quietly under his breath as he dodged another spell. Voldemort must have set Anti-Disapparation Wards.

"You don't seek to kill me, Voldemort?" he questioned, arching a curious brow as he dodged yet another bolt of red light.

The Dark Lord's lips curled at the audacity of the man standing before him. "I wish to torment you with the knowledge that you failed your son, Potter. That will be much more entertaining for me. And your Mudblood wife… why… the entertainment that can be taken from her alone…"

James saw red and raised his wand, casting a rather severe burning hex Voldemort's way. The powerful dark wizard just waved it aside, smiling in amusement.

"Goodnight, James," he whispered. "You will live to realize your failure. Stupefy."

Too startled to move in time, James was asleep before he hit the floor.

_Lily_… he thought desperately as he fell.

And when Lily Evans Potter fell, her last thought was of James.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore strode through the halls of Hogwarts, his face set with ruthless determination. Hagrid had already been sent. Sirius Black would soon be taken care of. Harry was to be taken to his aunt and uncle's house, if he was indeed still alive, which Dumbledore very much doubted. But if he _had_ survived, young Harry Potter would need to be strong.

_And forged in the fires of adversity, he will be the One to vanquish the Dark Lord…_

And as for the others…

He entered his office, schooling his features into those of sorrowful concern, and bent over the two sleeping figures.

"_Ennervate_," he whispered, and the man and woman jerked awake.

"Albus," the man asked immediately as his wife stared around the room, searching desperately for their son. "What… where is…?"

"I'm sorry," Albus whispered. "We were too late. He's gone."

The woman began to cry, high, keening sounds that tore at his heart. "I think… I think it's for the best if you leave the wizarding world. Without Harry…" Dumbledore's voice trailed off into silence.

Thirty minutes later, Lily and James Potter left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to go into seclusion… never intending to return.

* * *

With a blank expression, Remus Lupin stared around the room he had lived in for the previous three years. It was stacked high with boxes – he hadn't realized he'd acquired so many possessions. With a tired sigh, he considered burning some of them, but instead decided to save them. Someday, Harry would want something to remember his parents by – if Remus ever got to see him again…

He pulled the train ticket from his jacket pocket and studied it carefully. His train to Rumania was set to depart in two hours, and he didn't want to be late. With a wave of his wand, he shrunk his boxes and placed them all in one tattered briefcase, held together by pieces of string – the briefcase James had bought him for Christmas in their third year. "For you, Professor Lupin," he had declared with a broad smile. James, for some odd reason, had always been convinced Remus would one day be a teacher. The briefcase had been beautiful then, made of shining mahogany panels, and had gleamed in the firelight. Now, it was a mere shadow of its former glory.

Just like its owner.

Remus Lupin trudged down the steps of his apartment building with every intention of getting a bite to eat before catching his train.

He'd be damned if he returned to England when he couldn't see Harry.

* * *

The sun hovered anxiously in the sky as the young boy worked, a sheen of sweat over his skin. He sobbed quietly, his breath coming in labored pants, his little hands raw and red from pulling roots all day. He had been working in the lawn since seven that morning, and it was approaching five o'clock p.m. His uncle would be home soon, and he hadn't mowed the lawn yet… though how he was going to push a machine bigger than he was, he didn't know….

The sound of a car door slamming sent him into a frenzy, and he shot to his feet, praying that he would make it to his cupboard before his uncle noticed the lawn…

"WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH YOURSELF ALL DAY, BOY?" his uncle roared, and the boy quivered. "WE FEED YOU, CLOTHE YOU, HOUSE YOU, AND THIS IS THE THANKS WE GET?" With an angry snarl, the man swung his beefy hand out, knocking his little nephew to the ground. The boy's glasses cut into his skin as the hand impacted his face, and a trail of blood slipped down his cheek as the boy whimpered.

Harry Potter was five years old.

* * *

He should have kept his head down.

He ran, eyes staring straight ahead as Dudley's gang raced after him. He didn't know what he'd been thinking – why hadn't he done poorly on the test? Uncle Vernon would never forgive him for doing better than his own son… He ducked as a rock was flung at his head and put on a burst of speed, finally rounding the corner onto Privet Drive. Gasping for breath, he ran up the steps and through the door, planning to slip into his cupboard –

– He froze in his tracks, eyes wide, as Vernon Dursley stepped into his path, his face an interesting shade of puce.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS, BOY?" the man roared. "YOUR TEACHER CALLED TO TELL US YOU'VE ACED THE LAST FIVE TESTS IN YOUR CLASS, WHILE DUDLEY HAS BEEN FAILING! SHE HAD THE NERVE – THE ABSOLUTE NERVE – TO TELL US THAT WE SHOULD TRY TO GET DUDLEY TO FOLLOW YOUR INFLUENCE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR TEACHER, BOY?"

Shocked, the boy tried to protest, but his uncle ignored him. He struggled when the large man grabbed his arm, but the man jerked the small boy forward and smiled broadly when he heard a bone snap. Chuckling gleefully, he dragged the boy to the cupboard under the stairs and opened the door, flinging the boy in it and closing it with a snap.

"YOU'LL STAY IN THERE, AND THERE'LL BE NO FOOD FOR THREE DAYS, YOU HEAR ME, BOY?" he roared.

The boy curled into a ball on his cot, a spider swinging down to meet him, as he heard the locks slide home. Cradling his arm to his chest, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

Harry Potter was eight years old.

* * *

It was with a blank face that he sat through the meeting in the principal's office. He stared straight ahead at the desk for the entire half-hour, ignoring the astonished conversation between Vernon and Petunia Dursley and the principal of Stonewall Primary School. No one had any idea how he had gotten into the roof – the boy had claimed the wind caught him mid-jump, but all three adults knew that idea was preposterous. Vernon Dursley was steadily turning purple, and the boy was afraid.

The last time his uncle had been this angry, he had nearly been starved to death. They had thrown him into the cupboard under the stairs with only a jug of water and left him there for ten days. He had had to resort to catching and eating spiders after the sixth day, a thought that saddened him as much as it disgusted him.

The meeting ended, and the boy got nervously to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets to conceal the fact that they were shaking. He trudged out to the car slowly, speeding to a normal pace only when Uncle Vernon barked at him to stop holding them up.

The drive back to Privet Drive took only ten minutes. The second the door was shut, the man rounded on him and Petunia Dursley, as always, disappeared into the other room.

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

It worked for some people.

This time, Uncle Vernon didn't even speak. Eyes glinting madly, he pointed toward the cupboard, where a large pitcher of water already sat. The boy didn't need telling twice. Not daring to believe his luck, he raced to the cupboard and threw himself inside it, pulling the door shut behind him and hugging his knees to his chest, staring around at the darkness.

It was fourteen days before they let him out, and there were no more spiders left in his cupboard.

Harry Potter was ten years old.

* * *

He returned to Privet Drive beaten, broken, shattered. His godfather was gone, the only adult he'd ever really been able to turn to. Hermione had been right – Hermione, who he had always trusted, always listened to, had been right again. He'd led his five friends into a trap and nearly gotten all of them killed.

He had gotten Sirius killed.

WORTHLESS FREAK! SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE NOW, BOY? WHO HAVE YOU GOT LEFT? WHO WILL COME FOR YOU?

He sat bolt upright, staring in shock around the small room which was still strewn with Dudley's old, broken toys. He'd never stayed in the room long enough to clean them out – nor had he ever had the time, energy or inclination to do so. But where had that come from? Why had he remembered that?

With a wince, he glanced down at his left arm. He remembered the day it had been broken so clearly, remembering the snap the thin bone had made. It had healed within three days. At the time, he hadn't understood it, but he knew now that it had been his magic which healed him.

He wished it hadn't. His magic had also erased all traces of abuse. Vernon Dursley would be able to start all over with a clean slate every time, because the boy would always heal himself.

That was all he was on Privet Drive. The Boy.

His eyes slid around the room, memories of his early childhood filling his mind. Memories Snape had relished seeing, had gone through with calculating cruelty, had brought the forefront again and again – Snape always went after exactly what he least wanted seen…

He looked at the small digital clock by his bed, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Harry Potter was sixteen years old.

* * *

_Next chapter:  
Chapter 1 - The Man Who Never Learns _

Review if you have something to say.

Cheers,  
**LIZ **


	2. The Man Who Never Learns

**Wishful Thinking**

Chapter 1 – The Man Who Never Learns

It was with a shaking hand that Remus lifted the lid of the dusty old box.

He knelt gingerly on the floor of the old bedroom, tears prickling at his eyes. The door was shut, but not locked, and all the rest were down in the kitchen. He had been going through Sirius's things for over an hour, but still, he had not found his friend's will. And even though Gringotts would have a copy, Dumbledore had insisted that the Order needed to see it first.

The headmaster had finally confronted Fudge the day before with the news of Sirius's innocence – in front of Rita Skeeter. Surprisingly, the malicious reporter who had made Remus yearn to draw blood in Harry's fourth year was turning out to be quite useful in the long run. Not ten minutes after Dumbledore had given evidence of Sirius's innocence, Skeeter had been racing around the Daily Prophet offices to get her story onto the presses. And only an hour earlier, the Daily Prophet had printed an official apology to Sirius Black from none other than Cornelius Fudge himself.

Too bad Sirius wasn't around to see it.

Remus sighed tiredly, rubbing the back of his neck as he rocked back on his heels. One more box emptied and still, no will. He knew Sirius had written one – he'd seen Sirius write one, and seen him write letter after letter after…

"Remus?" A soft voice interrupted his thoughts, and he turned quickly to see Nymphadora Tonks leaning against the doorjam, a look of quiet concern on her face. "Dumbledore's here. The meeting's starting."

He nodded shortly, rising to his feet and followed her out of the room. But at the doorway, he glanced back, wondering where Sirius had hidden the things Dumbledore so feared.

* * *

The gathering was their fourth after the Department of Mysteries fiasco the month before. Remus settled himself into a chair next to Tonks, being careful not to meet Snape's eyes as the bat-like man swept into the room. Ever since their fight on the night of Sirius's death, the man had been even more venomous than usual. The man's hateful, vindictive comments were even beginning to try the patience of easy-going, kind-hearted Arthur Weasley. 

Dumbledore, of course, did nothing. He'd never bothered to restrain the man while the Marauders were in school, after all…

The man in question walked quickly to the head of the table before lowering himself into his seat and looking gravely around at the rest of them. "Good evening, friends," Dumbledore murmured, and the Order responded quietly. "I have made a small amount of progress on the matter I have been researching on my own. Sadly, I have discovered that my fears were not unfounded."

Pausing mournfully, Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat, linking his hands and gazing earnestly at each of them. "Lord Voldemort's possession of Harry in the Ministry atrium did, in fact, strengthen the link between them. Unfortunately, this leaves Harry much more open to visions and even, I fear, a second possession attempt. Severus," he began, and the sallow-faced man flicked cold, black eyes in the headmaster's direction, "I will have to ask you to set aside your anger and resume tutoring Harry in Occlumency."

"A marvelous idea," Remus murmured, somehow unable to stop himself, "considering how well that worked the last time…"

"It was not my failing, werewolf, but the brat's," Snape sneered. "I cannot force the idiotic boy to learn that which is beyond him… Of course, he might be more motivated now that he sees the consequences of his selfishness," the man hissed.

Remus glared at Snape, shifting very quickly, but Arthur, sitting across from him, placed a gentle hand on the younger man's arm. "Easy, Remus," the Weasley patriarch said quietly. "Let him say whatever he wants. Everyone here who cares about Harry knows that all he's doing is spouting poison."

"At least I didn't get that mutt killed!" Snape erupted, shooting to his feet, and Tonks' eyes flashed. "At least I face my mistakes and deal with them! But no, Saint Potter, Gryffindor Golden Boy, can do no wrong!"

At this, Albus sighed tiredly. Arthur drew in a sharp breath, the tips of his ears turning red. Kingsley Shacklebolt, eyes steadily on Snape, leaned his chair back on two legs and slipped a hand into his pocket. And Moody, his fake eye settled straight on Snape's face, clenched his hand around his wand, a scowl on his face.

"Face your mistakes, Severus?" Remus replied, arching a brow. "Since when? Even when you came back to Dumbledore's side, you told him that it had been all Sirius's fault you went over to the Death Eaters. You've never owned up to anything in your miserable little existence."

"How dare –"

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore cut in serenely, having regained his composure. "Keep in mind that the man is grieving. Do not take his words to heart. And as for you, Remus," the old man peered sternly at Remus over his half-moon spectacles, "I had expected better of you."

McGonagall, to Dumbledore's right, glanced sharply at the headmaster, her mouth set in a thin line.

"Now, as I was saying," Dumbledore continued, even as Emmeline Vance glared over at Remus, "Harry is now much more open to visions and possession. I fear that if one of us were to go see the child, Voldemort may influence his actions via their link, and perhaps even try to possess the boy again. Therefore, I am asking that all contact with Harry be cut off for the duration of the summer."

Kingsley's chair fell on all fours with a dull thud. "Excuse me?" he asked, gazing at Dumbledore in confusion. "Did I hear you correctly, Headmaster? I seem to recall that we had planned to train young Harry this summer."

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed, "I had hoped Harry would be able to benefit from your tutelage, but alas, it seems that such a thing would be too dangerous…"

"Owling him would be too dangerous?" Tonks asked, staring at Dumbledore incredulously. "I'd planned to take him, Ginny and Hermione out shopping for new clothes for the poor kid. You have seen the rags those Dursleys make him wear, haven't you? And now you want to just abandon him there for the whole summer without any word from any of us? Again?"

"Harry does not need new clothes," Dumbledore replied calmly. "His will still fit him for quite some –"

"He looks like a street urchin!" Tonks cut in, still staring at Dumbledore.

"Albus, I think perhaps –" McGonagall cut in, fingering her cane nervously.

"No, Minerva," Dumbledore said sternly. "Harry's well-being comes first. Are you willing to gamble his safety for some new clothes?"

The Transfiguration professor's mouth, if possible, tightened into an even thinner line, but Arthur smiled grimly.

"Exactly, Albus," the red-headed man put in. "Harry's well-being comes first. Are you willing to gamble his well-being for his physical safety?"

"They are one and the same, Arthur," Dumbledore replied smoothly.

"No, Albus, they're not," Kingsley said solemnly, and the Headmaster held up a hand to stop the flow of conversation.

"There will be no arguments," Dumbledore stated sternly. "Harry must remain at Privet Drive for his own good," he stared at Remus, as if daring the man to argue. "He will not be contacted. Severus, you may go see Harry for Occlumency lessons – and no others. The matter is closed."

"You know, Dumbledore," Remus said lazily, tipping his chair back and staring at the ceiling, "the last time I checked, we were your allies–"

Turning his head, Remus stared at the headmaster with a blank face, speaking in a calm, quiet voice, "Not your followers."

A stunned silence followed Remus's words, and as he watched, the headmaster blinked and drew back, startled. Without waiting for anyone to reply, Remus dropped his chair back down to the floor and stood up, striding out of the room. He returned to Sirius's bedroom, rage growing within him, and went back to searching for his brother's will.

And if he found something to prove that Sirius had had suspicions about Dumbledore, so much the better.

* * *

Eighty-nine. Eighty-eight. Eighty-seven. Eighty-six… 

Harry threw ball up into the air over and over again, catching it lazily every time. He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed, stretching out on his bed with a frown. Glancing absently at the parchment on his wall, he sighed, wondering how long he'd be left with the Dursleys this time…

"Wotcher, Harry," a cheerful voice cut into his thoughts, and Harry stood up quickly, wand in hand, and pointed it at the intruder. Nymphadora Tonks, hands in the air in front of her, stepped carefully through his doorway. "How're you doing, kid?"

Choosing to ignore the nickname, Harry shrugged and absently tossed his ball into the air. "It's boring here," he replied honestly. "I have nothing to do but…"

"Think about Sirius?" Tonks finished softly, her eyes tearing up. When Harry swallowed convulsively and nodded, she took another step into the room and shut the door behind her. "It's okay to grieve for him, Harry," she said quietly. "You have to. But try not to dwell on it, all right? Find things to do. Somehow," she finished darkly.

"I'll manage," Harry replied heavily, and Tonks smiled at him. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Immediately, the Auror's expression darkened, and Harry blinked in surprise. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. "Is anyone…?"

"No one's hurt," Tonks reassured him. "Yet," she added darkly. "Harry… Dumbledore's decided to cut you off again."

Startled, Harry sat down hard on his bed. "What?" he asked, immediately going pale. "For... for how long?"

Tonks winced. "All summer. But Harry – we'll figure something out. Don't worry."

He glanced up, baffled. "But… I thought…" he began, and Tonks grinned.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she asked, her voice chipper again. "Moody's on guard duty, which is how I got in. He, Remus, Kingsley, Arthur and I will work something out, don't worry. We're not going to leave you here until September."

"Thank you," Harry breathed, a smile growing on his face, and Tonks cringed yet again.

"Don't thank me just yet, Harry," the metamorphmagus replied, her hair changing quickly from bright pink to a sky blue. "You see, there's more. Dumbledore's sending Snape to Privet Drive to restart your Occlumency lessons."

Tonks was slightly unsettled by the silence that followed that statement. From all she'd seen and heard, Harry had one hell of a temper, and to hear that no one but Snape would be near him all summer – she watched him warily as he blinked, staring at her, and sure enough–

"WHAT?"

"Harry," she said quickly, grabbing his arm to pull him back down to the bed he'd jumped up from, "we'll figure something out. Moody will stand guard on the days Snape has to teach you, or Remus or I will come with him. We won't leave you alone with that… that… Death Eater."

"I thought the Order all knew–"

"Yes, yes, he's a spy for Dumbledore, he's working for the greater good and he's only a snarky bastard to "maintain his image". I know the whole spiel," she replied impatiently. "But I also know the truth, which is that Severus Sebastian Snape is a foul, vindictive and petty little man, and that's not exactly the type of person I'd trust around you unsupervised. Or supervised, as a matter of fact," she added thoughtfully.

Once again, a startled silence followed her words, but after a moment, Harry began to snicker. "Sebastian?" he repeated. "Severus Sebastian Snape? Wait 'til I tell Ron…"

Eyeing the young wizard warily, Tonks bit back a smile. "I have to go now, Harry," she said quietly. "I just wanted to make sure you knew… We'll be in touch somehow. We just need to figure out what to do first."

"All right," Harry agreed, and he stood up, walking the metamorphmagus to his bedroom door. "Tonks?" he added, and the blue-haired witch turned, raising an eyebrow in question. "Thanks."

She smiled back at him and, pulling a Portkey from her pocket, disappeared.

Tiredly, Harry sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead, and turned back to his room. He shut the door and settled once more on his bed.

Eighty-five. Eighty-four. Eighty-three. Eighty-two. Eighty-one.

* * *

She moved quickly out of the house, her face set in a determined expression. Walking past the large oak tree in the front yard, she murmured softly, "Contact Remus." When the space beneath the tree rustled and a soft pop was heard, she turned and waved a pair of young men out from behind the dustbins down the street. 

"All right, Weasleys," she said sternly. "You watch this house until Moody and I come back, got it? We shouldn't be more than an hour or two, and if any other Order members show up, you're to call me on this right away, got it?" Tonks passed the brothers a small hand mirror, waiting while they nodded their agreement. "Good," she murmured, and apparated away without another word.

When she was gone, Fred and George took up their positions below Harry's window and settled in.

"George?" Fred whispered, holding up the mirror and striking a pose. "How do I look?"

"Dashing, Gred."

"As always."

* * *

As soon as the front door shut behind her, she moved up the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible, pausing only to knock on the door to Sirius's old bedroom. When the door opened, she slipped through quickly, her eyes immediately finding Remus. 

He stood by the desk with Kingsley, speaking quietly as they rifled through some papers. A few feet away, Moody stood, his fake eyeball spinning every which way. It paused on her and Moody nodded shortly before resuming his scan of the premises. Bill, who had opened the door for Tonks, walked over to Remus and touched his shoulder, murmuring something to the older man. As he did so, Charlie wandered over to an old armoire against the back wall and began going through it.

"How is he?" Remus asked worriedly, spinning to face her, and Tonks winced.

"He's…" she began, brushing her hair from her face. Absently, she frowned at it and screwed her face up in concentration, and immediately, her hair turned dark purple. She crossed the room and threw herself down onto the bed, dropping her head down into her hands. "He's going crazy in there, Remus," she muttered. "I found him just tossing a ball up into the air and counting… looked like he'd been at it for a while. And when I said Dumbledore had cut him off…" She looked up, her eyes sparkling with tears. "His heart just broke, Remus. It was horrible."

"Did you tell him about the Occlumency lessons?" Kingsley asked, his deep voice laced with concern.

She nodded. "Yes, and he was furious. It was almost better than… than…"

She broke off, gazing into the distance, and Remus moved to sit beside her, touching her arm comfortingly.

"We'll…"

"Minerva's coming," Moody broke in, and Remus shot to his feet. Immediately, he moved to the desk again, rifling through it, and Tonks moved to help Charlie go through the armoire as Bill checked a small hope chest at the base of the bed.

A sharp rapping sounded against the door, and Remus absent-mindedly called, "Come in!" Through the door stepped McGonagall, her eyes solemn and weary-looking.

"You may stop acting now," she told them all sharply. "Moody, your shift ends in an hour. Be sure to have the–" she paused, scanning the room, "–Weasley twins out of Privet Drive in half an hour at the latest. Elphias Doge is on the next shift, and he's always early."

Ignoring the stares of everyone in the room, save Moody, who was still checking their surroundings, McGonagall shut the door behind herself and frowned. "Do what you can for him," she said suddenly. "Albus is a good man, but sometimes he forgets–" McGonagall broke off, swallowing. "I told him they were the worst sort… the day we left Harry there. He just doesn't listen…"

Though Remus was beginning to question the validity of her first statement, he smiled sympathetically at the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor House. "We'll help him," he assured her. "Don't worry."

Swallowing slightly, the deputy headmistress nodded, turned and left the room, disappearing down the stairs.

"Wow," Tonks murmured, staring after McGonagall. "Who would have guessed…?"

"It's not much," Remus agreed, "but it's a step in the right direction. Bill, would you be willing to swing by Diagon Alley?"

The eldest Weasley son nodded, picking up his leather jacket from where it hung over the back of Sirius's desk chair. "I'll check to see if the mirrors are in yet," he agreed, waving over his shoulder as he left the room.

The group waited for a moment before speaking. Finally, after Moody had nodded to show there was no one else in the house, Remus turned to Kingsley. "Well?" he asked.

"I spoke to Ollivander yesterday," the Auror replied, settling in Sirius's desk chair. "He refused to say anything. But I also stopped by Fortescue's – you remember, he was an Unspeakable during the first war, retired and took over the parlor when his older brother died – he said he'll pass on whatever he can without breaking the Secrecy Oath. I'm not sure how much that is, exactly, but anything's better than nothing at all."

Remus nodded, ignoring the incredulous look spreading across Charlie's face. "You've been at this for a while, haven't you?" Charlie breathed, staring at them.

"We all thought something was… off about Dumbledore's orders last year," Tonks replied absent-mindedly. "Telling us to keep our distance from Harry, give him space… A classmate had died right before his eyes. The last thing he needed was space."

"Sirius, especially, was right pissed about it," Remus added. "He started keeping a record of Dumbledore's orders regarding Harry. I don't know where he put them, but they're probably with his will, which is why I volunteered so quickly to try to find it."

"And Fortescue?" Charlie asked curiously.

"An old friend of Lily's," Remus replied. "I contacted him the summer before Harry's third year – you remember, the one when he ran away? – and asked him to keep an eye on Harry for me. He took a liking to Harry, and he's been listening very carefully whenever someone mentioned the name "Potter" near his parlor for years."

"Where's Arthur?" Tonks asked suddenly, as if just realizing the man wasn't there.

"He had an idea about Occlumency," Kingsley replied, grinning. "Have to give the man credit… I wouldn't do it…"

"Well, he is the only one of us besides Bill and Charlie who needs to learn it," Remus murmured. "Lycanthropes are immune and you Aurors are all taught a rough version when you join the Auror Corps. He has the right idea."

"Oh, no," Tonks breathed. "He's not…"

Remus nodded shortly. "He is."

* * *

Arthur took a deep breath before knocking on the large wooden door. It had been a long day and he knew he'd have to get home to Molly within three hours at most… if he was home after seven, she'd flay him alive. He tapped his foot impatiently when he heard movement from behind the door, stilling immediately as it opened. 

Severus Snape stared at him from his potion's lab, an expression of utter shock on his face.

"What in the world are you doing here, Weasley?" he demanded, and Arthur merely smiled politely.

"May I come in?"

Snape stared at him for a few seconds longer, incredulous, before shoving the door open a few more inches, turning and striding away. Taking that as an invitation, Arthur stepped into the door, shutting the door behind himself.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Snape muttered angrily, bending over a steaming cauldron.

"I won't pretend to like you," Arthur replied shortly. "I think you're a spiteful, bitter and petty old man, for all that you're less than forty years old. I hate the way you treat my kids – yes, that does include Harry and Hermione – and I can't stand the way you treat Remus and Tonks."

Setting a ladle down with a solid thunk, Snape turned to gaze hatefully at the older man. "And I abhor every one of you as well, Weasley, is that what you came here for?"

"But I know," Arthur continued as if he hadn't heard the man, "that you're caught between two masters, neither of whom have much regard for your well-being. Knowing that, I'm sure you can understand why _I _don't understand the fact that you have no sympathy at all for Harry, who is caught in a very similar situation to yours."

Snape froze.

"Of all of us, you are the only one in a position to truly understand what he's been through, except for those who have been through it with him. You're the only adult he knows who can understand. And yet you hate him because of what his father did, and because of who you've deluded yourself to think he is."

Silence.

"And now," Arthur continued, sitting down on a stool by Snape's workstation, "that I've gotten that off my chest, I have a proposition for you."

The potions professor blinked, startled by the man's audacity. Not fazed in the least, Arthur gazed back at the man, waiting patiently.

"I'm listening," Snape finally replied.

Arthur smiled. "Excellent." He leaned forward slightly. "I can spare you the necessity of teaching Harry Occlumency."

"How?" Snape spat. "Dumbledore ordered that the brat be taught."

"Teach me." Arthur said quietly, and Snape drew back once more, startled, and stared at the man. "I'd have to learn Legilimency as well, but that shouldn't be difficult for a man of your talents." He waited a few minutes before raising an eyebrow. "Well?"

"You will have to come here for two hours before every one of Potter's lessons for your own tutoring session," Snape said finally. "And you will need to use Polyjuice Potion."

As Arthur winced, Snape raised his wand and locked the door.

"Get comfortable, Weasley, you'll be here for quite a while."

* * *

Five out of six of the Ministry kids lounged lazily around Ron's room, staring at the ceiling and walls as evening set in. 

"What do you think he's doing right now?" Ginny asked from where she lay sprawled across the camp bed, a pillow hugged to her chest.

"Nothing productive, I'm sure," Hermione replied, perching on Ron's windowsill and frowning out at the night sky. "He's likely bored out of his mind."

"Maybe if he gets bored enough, he'll start revising," Ron snickered, "and give you a run for your money."

Hermione sent a dark look Ron's way. "It's not funny," she said sharply. "Sirius just died and they're leaving him alone with people who hate him! It's been a month! What are they thinking?"

"You know," Neville spoke up sadly, "I don't think they are."

Everyone in the room paused at that statement. Hermione blinked on the windowsill, staring at Neville. Luna, lying on Ron's bed, lowered the upside down copy of the Quibbler and gazed at Neville over it. Ron, standing by Luna, sat down hard on the edge of his bed.

"What do you mean?" Hermione demanded, and Neville shifted in his seat nervously before settling down cross-legged next to Ginny.

"Well," he said anxiously, "it doesn't seem like they're really thinking for themselves. Just… they're following Dumbledore's orders, instead. And Dumbledore… well, he's a good man, but he's been leading the Light side so long – I think he's forgotten we're all human, really, especially Harry."

"A scary thought, that," Ron mused aloud as Hermione stood in stunned silence. "What wouldn't he do, then?"

"Good question," Neville murmured, gazing out the window.

"We should go see him," Hermione said suddenly.

"Who, Dumbledore?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed.

Hermione rolled her eyes, leaning back on the frog tank against Ron's wall. "No, you prat," she replied, "Harry."

"How could we get there, though?" Neville asked, frowning.

"If we could get to headquarters," Ginny replied – they had told Neville and Luna of the Order earlier that day – "then we could probably floo to Arabella Figg's house and walk to Harry's."

"Have you ever seen anybody floo in headquarters?" Ron pointed out. "It's probably not even connected to the network."

"And," Hermione added sadly, "we can't just show up unexpectedly… That would cause considerable difficulty for his guards."

"An astute observation, Miss Granger," a merry voice cut in, and all five students spun to see their headmaster standing in the doorway. "But there are even more difficulties in visiting young Harry than those that you have listed. As it so happens," he stepped through the doorway, shutting the door behind himself, "Harry's recent possession by Lord Voldemort makes him more susceptible to future possessions."

"What?" Hermione asked. "But how? Harry drove him out!"

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, "but it took some time. And this time, if Voldemort were to possess Harry, he would waste no time in making him act. He could kill one of you."

"We're his friends," Ron replied. "We'll risk it. Besides, what are the odds?"

"You will risk it, Ronald," Dumbledore agreed. "I, however, will not. You must not contact Harry – by owl, in person or by any other means."

"With all due respect, Headmaster," Neville spoke up, "you have no authority to order us to cut off contact with him, nor to keep us from visiting him."

"An excellent point, Neville," Luna murmured dreamily, picking up her copy of the Quibbler once more.

"As head of the Order–" Dumbledore began.

"We're not members of your Order, Professor," Ginny pointed out. "Students can't join, remember?"

"I am also the headmaster of your–"

"School is not in session, Professor," Hermione pointed out. "We are not on school grounds, and this is not a subject related to our schooling in any way, shape or form. You're running out of reasons, Professor."

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled at her in a kindly, grandfather-like way. "I understand you are very worried about Harry. The truth is that I am, as well. I feel that he needs space after–"

"What he needs," Hermione cut in scathingly, "is us."

"'No man is an island,'" Luna spoke up dreamily, turning another page in the Quibbler.

"Then I suppose I'll just have to go to your parents about this," Dumbledore said tiredly. "I had hoped I wouldn't need to do that, but as they do have authority over you…"

"I'm seventeen in September, Professor," Hermione said shortly, "and my parents agreed to emancipate me by Muggle law to ensure that I had the same legal status in both the magical and Muggle worlds. And furthermore, they allow me to do what I feel is best. If you go to them asking them to ban me from seeing Harry, you will find yourself forcibly removed from my house."

"Would you really do that to him, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked mournfully, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "What if Voldemort were to possess Harry, and he killed you? He could never live with that!"

"So I'm supposed to avoid him for an indeterminate amount of time just in case Voldemort tries to possess him again? I think not, Professor." Rising to her feet, she walked past him to go downstairs. "Thank you for your advice, Headmaster Dumbledore. I'll show you out."

But rather than follow Hermione from the room, the elderly headmaster sighed. "I had hoped it would not come to this," he said, and Hermione turned to watch him with narrowed, frightened eyes. "I will have to bind your magic. I cannot have you going to see Harry – it's too dangerous."

"You can't do that!" Ginny spoke up, shocked. "You have no right! It could kill us!"

"Only if done improperly, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore smiled indulgently at her, his eyes flickering over to Neville. "I know the correct way to do a binding spell–"

Hermione turned white. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "Oh, my God."

"Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, my God," she whispered again, before spinning to scream down the stairs. "Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!"

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, jumping in shock. "What–?"

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore began, "I assure you that no harm–"

"Mr. Weasley!" she screamed again, and footsteps thundered up the stairs. Reaching up her sleeve, Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at Dumbledore with a shaking hand. "Don't you move," she warned him, her voice quavering. "Don't you _dare_ move."

Dumbledore stared at her, baffled. "Miss Granger, what–?"

A moment later, Arthur Weasley burst through the door, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and Molly right behind him. "Hermione, what on earth–?"

"He was going to put binding spells on us!" she exclaimed shrilly, her hand still shaking. "He was going to bind our magic! He said he was afraid we'd try to go see Harry and get hurt – he said he'd done it before… He looked at Neville when he said it!" she screamed. "Take it off him, you foul old man, take it off him!"

Bill paled. "Oh, lord," he murmured, and stepped forward slowly. "Hermione," he said gently, laying a hand on her shoulder, "lower your wand. We'll take care of this–"

"Did you put one on Harry, too?" she demanded, staring at Dumbledore – she didn't seem to hear Bill at all. "Did you? Answer me!"

"Hermione," Bill said again. "Sit down. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Her hand shaking horribly, Hermione lowered her wand, staring at Dumbledore with a look of utter contempt. "How could you do this to them?" she asked, her voice still shaking. "How could you do this?"

"I'm wondering that myself, Albus," Arthur spoke up, and he stepped forward, moving to stand between Dumbledore and the students. "Surely you've heard of cases where children have died from the trauma – and of course, the physical trauma – of having their magic bound."

"But that was only–"

"And I happen to know," Arthur cut Dumbledore off, "that you yourself nearly died when you were nine years old, because your Aunt Matilda had chosen to bind your magic, feeling you were dangerous to yourself and others!"

"But that's only when it's done improperly!" Dumbledore exclaimed, looking quite desperate. "I would never endanger these children, or any others!"

"But you have," Ron said quietly, and Dumbledore gazed at him, taken aback. "Come on, Professor, don't tell me you think of the Dursleys house as a safe environment for Harry."

"He has never come to harm–"

"They starved him!" Hermione burst out. "They locked him in that room of his for weeks, feeding him through a cat flap in the door! Fred and George told us! They broke his arm when he was younger – he never told us why or when, but he did tell Ron and me that the Dursleys did it! "Harry Hunting" was Dudley Dursley's favorite sport as a child! And you're saying he's never come to harm there?"

"Hermione, I–"

The bushy-haired witch burst into tears. Crying in sympathy, Molly Weasley moved forward and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders, guiding her gently from the room. When the door closed behind the two women, Arthur spoke up again.

"Please remove the binding spells from Neville," he said. "All of them."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he raised his wand. "I'm afraid this will hurt a great deal," he warned Neville sorrowfully.

Neville bit his lip. "Just do it," he said nervously.

With a few murmured words and a wave of his wand, Dumbledore removed all of the binding spells he had cast fifteen years before. Trying to remain quiet, Neville bit down hard on his lower lip, his teeth slicing right through the skin. As blood ran down his chin, he whimpered, clenching his fists, and Ginny gasped. Finally, the pain became too much, and he screamed and collapsed.

Neville thrashed on the floor, clutching his chest as he screamed. Cursing under his breath, Ron raced forward and hauled Neville to his feet, who whimpered once more.

"Chest… coming apart..." Neville hissed between labored breaths.

Ginny let out a cry and ran to help her brother, supporting Neville on his other side, and the two of them lowered him gently onto Ron's bed. Behind them, Luna threw open the bedroom door, and Hermione barreled through it a moment later, Molly on her heels. Spotting Neville, Hermione ran to the side of Ron's bed and lowered her ear to his chest.

"He's had a heart attack!" she exclaimed. "Ron, pump his chest!"

Nodding once, Ron moved forward to do just that, but Charlie quickly moved to Neville's side. "Let me," he said as he placed his hands over Neville's chest. "We all have to be trained in Muggle CPR at the dragon reservations."

Several tense moments of silence followed as Charlie worked. Abandoning the Muggle method within fifteen seconds, Charlie raised his wand and cast a light electrical charm on Neville. The boy's body jerked, and Ginny, wrapped up in her mother's arms, sobbed. Charlie cast once more and finally, he nodded, rocking back on his heels. Breaking free of her mother's grasp, Ginny ran forward and lowered her ear to Neville's chest, letting out a delighted cry when she heard his heart beating.

"We'll move him into Percy's old room," Bill said tersely, picking up the younger boy. Silently, he carried Neville out of the room, Ginny hurrying alongside him, with his mother, Fred, George, Charlie and Luna in his wake. Ron hesitated, glancing at his father and Hermione, before following.

Hermione gazed after them before turning her eyes to Dumbledore. The man looked horrified, and he swallowed, staring at the bed where Neville had lain moments before, before meeting her gaze. As he did so, Arthur stepped forward. "Explain," he demanded quietly, and Dumbledore nodded.

"In the months before the Potters died and the Longbottoms were tortured to insanity, both Harry and Neville began to have strong surges of accidental magic," he said slowly. "Alice Longbottom came to me against the will of her husband, Frank. She was afraid that Neville might hurt himself or someone else with his magic. She asked me to bind it, and I agreed. I offered to do the same for the Potters, but they flat-out refused. James went so far as to threaten to –" He swallowed, his throat working nervously. "– to threaten to kick me out of their house when I pressed the matter. I never offered again, and I never – I never put any binding spells on Harry."

"Why didn't you remove the spells before?" Arthur asked, and Dumbledore sighed.

"I was afraid," he replied. "Neville's a very powerful wizard you see, and after years of having to perform magic with the bind, his power has increased. He's nearly on par with Harry now, and that is no mean feat – a Patronus at thirteen years old! But I was afraid that if his power was too great, he would attract Voldemort's attention. There were already four marvelous students in my school, you see, who were marked for death by Voldemort, and I did not want anyone else to join their ranks."

His hands white, Dumbledore closed his eyes, awaiting their judgment. After a moment, Arthur spoke, and he opened his eyes. "Please send Madam Pomfrey to check on Neville," he requested. "I must go check on my guest. See yourself out."

Arthur turned to the door and left after Dumbledore nodded dumbly. Swallowing convulsively once more, the elderly wizard raised his eyes to Hermione, who stood staring at him with a blank expression, tears still visible on her face.

"You never meant to hurt Harry," she said slowly, "or Neville, or any of us. I know that. But you have."

Flinching, Dumbledore closed his eyes once more, opening them as she continued. "It almost would have been kinder to just leave him at Privet Drive forever, and never take him to Hogwarts. Instead, you take him away from that Hell every year, only to send him back again, and every time, it gets harder and harder for him to go back. Do you know how many times he's wondered why you hate him so? Do you know how often he's wished someone would save him from that place? Please, Professor," she whispered, "let us save him from that place."

"I can't," he said hoarsely. "The protections, he's only safe–"

He broke off when Hermione shook her head, a look of disgust on her face. "You'll never learn," she ground out, and she swept past him, slamming the door as she left.

The old man flinched once more, the sound echoing in his ears. For several moments, he stood perfectly still, staring straight ahead in silence. Then he reached out and carefully lowered himself onto Ron's bed.

Head in his hands, he wept.

_I did the right thing_, he told himself. _I did the right thing_.

* * *

_Next chapter:  
Chapter 2 - To Set the Record Straight_

Review if you have something to say.

Cheers,  
**LIZ **


	3. To Set the Record Straight

**Wishful Thinking**

Chapter 2 – To Set the Record Straight

"Aaaah!" Remus screamed, and Tonks jumped back, staring at the wall as the second glass shattered against it. Eyes flashing, Remus screamed again, snatching up another glass. Hurriedly, Tonks ran forward and grabbed his raised arm, pulling it down to his side and taking the glass from his hand.

"Easy there, Remus," she said quietly. "Calm down, or you might spontaneously transform. Can't have that, can we? You'd get fur all over the floor."

Remus stared at her, his breath still coming in ragged pants, then looked almost hungrily at the glass in her hand. Following his gaze she set it down and steered him into the living room. Away from the breakable objects, he seemed to deflate, and when Tonks pushed him gently onto a sofa, he cradled his head in his hands.

"That was a bit frightening, Remus," she said softly, lowering herself down next to him. "I've never seen you in a rage like that."

"I've never been in one like that," he replied, his voice muffled by his hands. "Even when Lily and James died, I didn't scream, didn't let it out – I'm always so afraid to let it out…"

He was silent for a moment as he raised his head, staring off into space. "Neville was always such a sweet kid," he muttered. "So timid, so unsure… but such a sweet kid. He was one of my favorites – and I had a great class."

"And he nearly died!" Remus screamed, shooting to his feet. "He nearly died of a _heart attack_, for the love of –"

"Hey!" Tonks jumped up, grabbing his arm again. "_Easy_, Remus!" She pulled him back down to the couch and kept a firm grip on his arm. "Calm down," she pleaded, gazing at him.

"He's such a sweet boy," Remus murmured, "such a sweet boy…" Glancing up, Remus met her gaze, tears sparkling in his eyes. "He owled me after I resigned in his third year, you know. Said he wanted to check up on me. He… he thanked me for helping him find a little confidence…

"_And Dumbledore nearly killed him_!"

"Arthur said Dumbledore's horrified," the metamorphmagus pointed out quickly.

"He still did it," Remus growled out. "Don't go telling me to forgive and forget."

Tonks drew back, glaring at him. "When did I say that? I'm as angry at him as you are! I don't know Neville at all, and I wasn't the best friend of Harry's parents, but I still care about them! How dare–"

"I'm sorry," Remus said, and her voice trailed off as she blinked in surprise. "I know you care – I had no right to – I'm sorry," he finished helplessly.

Tonks was speechless for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth repeatedly. Finally, she huffed out a breath and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him.

"What now?" Remus asked, bewildered.

"What did you have to go and do that for?" she demanded, a scowl on her face. "I had a perfectly good rant worked up!"

* * *

Four hours had passed since Madam Pomfrey had left, suggesting that Neville simply take it easy for a few days. After much fussing from both Molly and Ginny, he was finally allowed to return to Ron's room. Neville trudged wearily up the steps to the top floor, Ginny hovering beside him warily, and collapsed into the camp bed at the foot of Ron's bed. 

The lights were out, but he could see the gleam of Hermione's eyes in the darkness. Claiming the students would benefit from solidarity, Arthur Weasley had somehow convinced his wife to let all five students stay in Ron's room for the night. Though somewhat offended by the impromptu co-ed sleepover, Molly had agreed, on the condition that the children behave and Ron's door be left open.

As Ginny fell into her bed by Hermione, which Arthur Weasley had levitated into the room an hour before, a voice sounded through the dark.

"We going, then?" Ron asked sleepily.

"Tomorrow," Neville agreed, and Hermione smiled in the darkness.

* * *

The sun had just risen over Privet Drive when the scowling man appeared, looking most uncomfortable in Muggle clothes. Pulling a wand out of his sleeve, he waved it in complicated motions, incanting quietly under his breath. After a moment he paused, surveyed his work and nodded in satisfaction before striding down the street. 

At number four Privet Drive, rather than knock on the front door, he went around the side of the house. "You're relieved, Fletcher," he hissed as he drew even with the boy's window, and sure enough, an invisible man disapparated with a _pop_, leaving behind an empty bottle of whiskey.

The man sighed as he lifted the bottle and vanished it. _What a wonderful guard Fletcher makes… _

In a rare show of sadistic humor, the man smirked slightly as he conjured a large, flat wooden board and stepped onto it, levitating it carefully. Hovering before the boy's window, he rapped sharply on the glass, smirking yet again as the boy started and awoke. Predictably, the boy's eyes widened in shock before his scrambled out of bed and opened the window.

"I… I'm sorry, sir, Hedwig didn't go out last night or I'd have–"

"Quiet, Potter," the hovering man said immediately. "Step aside."

Gulping, the boy moved out of the way, and the hovering man stepped through the open window, bending at the waist to fit through. He shut the window behind himself and looked at the boy, frowning. "Straighten up, Potter, I haven't got all day. Dumbledore has ordered me to teach you Occlumency so we can protect whatever's left of your mind from the Dark Lord. I warn you now, I will tolerate no disrespect or laziness on your part. Since I am given the unenviable task of cramming knowledge into your worthless cranium, you will simply have to keep up with me."

As Harry stared, open mouthed, Snape continued, "And perhaps when we're through, you will show me how the television works, eh, Harry?" The man winked and smiled – a rather frightening sight to see on Snape's face.

Harry's mouth opened and closed several times. "Mr.… Mr. Weasley?" he asked, gaping.

The man grinned. "What do you think of my new look, my boy?" Arthur asked jovially. "Watch this…" He straightened his back, folded his arms slowly across his chest – being sure to drag his fingertips along his robes – and scowled down at Harry. "_Mr. _Potter, I will not tolerate such abysmal performance from you. Even our new _celebrity_ must perform up to Hogwarts' standards."

Relaxing his posture, Arthur smiled at Harry from behind his curtain of greasy black hair. "Well?"

"The scowl needs a bit of work," Harry told him, smiling broadly.

"What?" Arthur thundered. "I worked _hard_ on that! Oh, how you wound me, _Potter_! Hours of practicing in front of the mirror, wasted!"

Harry's smile broadened. "Do you think he really does?"

Pausing in his rant, Arthur blinked, confused. "Does what?"

"Practice in front to the mirror."

"Well…" Arthur replied slowly, "yes."

Harry burst out laughing. Smiling, Arthur waited patiently for him to settle down before saying, "I'm afraid this isn't purely a social call, Harry."

"Oh, I know," Harry replied. "I knew there had to be a reason for you to come–"

"Oh no, you misunderstand me, Harry!" Arthur cut in, looking faintly alarmed. "I would come see you for a social call if I could, Harry, but the way things stand right now, there is so much going on that there isn't going to be a day that goes by – for quite some time – when there isn't some news we have to bring you. And I'm afraid today's news is rather poor."

Immediately, Harry paled. "Who's hurt?"

"He'll be fine, Harry," Arthur tried to reassure him, but –

"Remus?" Harry asked, suddenly looking quite lost.

"No, Harry," Arthur replied, wincing. "Neville."

"What?" Harry drew back, reaching behind himself to find his bed, and sank down onto it. "What happened to Neville?"

"Well," Arthur said slowly, "you see Harry, Luna, Neville and Hermione are all staying at the Burrow – they arrived yesterday. We felt you kids needed some time to connect after what happened last month. We wanted to bring you too, Harry, but Dumbledore refused. Anyway, last night Dumbledore showed up and warned the kids not to owl or contact you, and he said something that made Hermione realize he'd had Neville under a binding spell since he was one. I'm not sure how she figured it out, but she did."

Taking a deep breath, Arthur plunged on, well aware that Harry was growing paler by the second. "What you need to understand about binding spells, Harry, is that they trap or bind a person's magic within himself. They're horrible to experience, I'm told, because they close off a part of oneself that a person _needs_ to function. For witches and wizards, magic is _natural_, and having it stripped from you is horrible. And it's very dangerous to do a binding spell – people have died because too much of their magic was bound for them to survive, or the binding was botched somehow. But while their magic is bound, they never really feel whole, and most people under binding spells are very timid and have little self-esteem. And it's incredibly difficult to cast spells with what little magic is left free of the binding spell.

"Unfortunately, removing the spell is even more dangerous. We had to make Dumbledore do it, of course, when we found out that he had done such a thing to Neville, but… the sudden surge of power when Neville's bindings broke free... Harry, it made him have a heart attack."

When Harry's head shot up, tears in his eyes, Arthur hurriedly continued. "He's all right, Harry. Hermione recognized it for what it was and Charlie knows CPR. He managed to revive Neville, and he's doing all right – he's just very tired. It turns out that Neville's mother asked Dumbledore to place the binding spell on Neville – he just never removed it."

"But Neville's okay?" Harry asked hopefully, having seized on to that portion of Arthur's news.

"He's fine," Arthur agreed, smiling slightly. "We're keeping Hermione for the summer – her parents are on a second honeymoon in Athens – and Molly and I plan to owl Luna's father and Neville's grandmother and ask to keep them, as well."

At this, Harry frowned, glancing down at the floor.

"I promise we'll do whatever we can to get you out of here, Harry."

"I know," the black-haired boy sighed. Standing, he rubbed at his forehead in what Arthur hoped was merely a nervous gesture. "I suppose you're here to make Professor Dumbledore think I'm having my Occlumency lessons?" he added.

Arthur smiled. "Not quite," he murmured. "I'm here to _give you_ your Occlumency lessons. You see, Snape wants to teach you about as much as you want to learn from him, so I struck up a bargain with him. He's teaching me – and I will pass the knowledge I glean from him on to you."

"You'd do that for me?" Harry asked, awestruck, and he stared in confusion at Mr. Weasley. He knew what Snape's _crash courses_ in Occlumency were like.

"Of course, my boy!" Arthur exclaimed. "Now, I want you to brace yourself, and I will explain everything I am doing to you aloud. Pay attention to what I'm saying and try to block me from seeing certain memories at the same time, all right?"

The lesson passed very slowly, but they made a considerable amount of progress, even with Arthur's break halfway through to take his second dose of Polyjuice. Arthur's method of explaining what he was doing and all the ways to counter it helped Harry a great deal, but Arthur was too distressed by Harry's memories to attack with much force. He didn't feel that was a horrible thing – in the first lesson, he hoped to ease Harry into the different Occlumency techniques, rather than take him by the ankle and toss him upside down into the deep end as Snape had done.

But the final memory Arthur had broken into had been one that utterly horrified him. Harry had fought tooth-and-nail to keep Arthur out of that particular memory, but his exhaustion from two hours of Occlumency finally caught up with him.

The Dursleys, it seemed, had not bothered to tell Harry his parents were dead until Harry was eight years old. Until that point…

He didn't even want to think about it.

* * *

It was only seven o'clock in the morning and already, Tonks had been dragged out of bed by an angry Gryffindor girl. 

Immediately upon discovering that the Floo network did indeed connect to Grimmauld Place, Hermione had floo'd over to headquarters and ran straight to Tonks's door, knocking frantically. When Tonks had stumbled out of bed, she had found Hermione demanding to be taken to see Harry. Groaning tiredly, Tonks had tried to turn to go back to bed, but Hermione had seized her arm and dragged her downstairs, where a very amused Remus stood over a pot of coffee.

Within two minutes of Hermione's arrival, the other students had found their way into Grimmauld Place and had all gathered around Tonks's chair, swarming like an angry pack of bees. Remus simply walked up to Tonks and passed her a cup of coffee before disappearing up the stairs with his cup of tea, humming all the while.

"Thanks for the help, Remus!" Tonks shouted after him.

"Any time!" he shouted back, and Tonks fumed.

She could just _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

Gulping down a swallow of coffee, Tonks sighed and gave in to the anger and determination of Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville – and Luna's oddly intimidating stare.

* * *

Tonks's voice emanated from his mirror as Harry slipped back into the room, having left to go to the bathroom. Sighing, Arthur lifted the mirror from his pocket and activated it. "Yes?" he asked calmly, ignoring the gasps that sounded from behind Tonks as his face came into view. 

"They want to see him," Tonks said frantically, looking rather harried. "Arthur, they'll kill me if I don't at least let them talk to him. I don't want to die!"

"I have another hour, but I think we're done here anyway," Arthur said, and he hesitated, thinking carefully. "Look, send Moody over as the guard so he can keep an eye out for _everyone_, and send… send two of them over to Figg's house. Use the disillusionment spell on them and have Moody walk them over, all right?"

"Okay, but you choose which two," Tonks warned him. "I don't feel like risking my life right now."

"I have a better – Harry?" Arthur asked quietly, turning the mirror over and pressing it into the bed, so their conversation would be neither seen nor heard. "Listen, we can bring two of your friends over for about an hour – but _only _two, and no longer than an hour. Who do you want to see?"

"Hermione and Neville," Harry replied immediately. "I'd love to see Ron and the rest but I need to know that–"

"I understand," Arthur smiled. "And what's more, Ron and the others will, too." He raised the mirror once more and said quietly, "Send Hermione and Neville on over," adding before Ron could protest, "He needs to see that Neville's okay, Ronald." When his son nodded, Arthur said goodbye to Tonks and cut the connection, replacing the mirror into his pocket.

And he settled in for a long and uncomfortable ten-minute wait.

* * *

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently, staring steadily at Moody as he gazed out from behind the bushes. "I don't see why we're back here," she said finally. 

"Watching for any obstacles, girl," he explained. "Got to get you to the house in one piece."

Neville gulped.

"Oh, _honestly_," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Professor Moody, your eye can see through just about any material, is that right?" Moody's fake eye swiveled to face her. Undaunted, Hermione continued. "Neville just recently had a heart attack, it's highly unlikely that there are any Death Eaters out for an early-morning stroll down _Privet Drive_, and any attacking Death Eaters _would attack at night_ to make it harder for them to be detected – they _do_ wear black robes, as I'm certain you recall."

"You listen here, missy," Moody began, but Hermione shook her head.

"Come on, Neville," she said, turning to the tired boy. "Let's go see Harry."

Neville nodded once, and they walked away.

"Blast it," Moody muttered, and he darted out from behind the bushes and chased after them, brandishing his wand left and right all the while.

Hermione sighed.

It was a very short walk from Magnolia Crescent to Privet Drive, and within several minutes, they had arrived, Moody ushering them to stand below Harry's window. Conjuring up a large plank, he levitated them up through the window, but only after steadily gazing through the walls of the house. As the board drew level with the window, Hermione jumped off it and into Harry's room, drawing an angry shout form Moody below. Ignoring both Moody and the startling sight of Snape sitting on Harry's bed, she threw herself at Harry and began to talk very quickly as she hugged him.

"Oh, _Harry_, it was _awful_, he came into Ron's room and told us we couldn't contact you all summer! He had Newville under a binding spell! He was going to put you under one too but your parents _refused_ and we made him take it off and Neville had a _heart attack_ and then he wouldn't let us take you _away_ from here, it was _awful_!" Hermione stopped speaking and gulped in air, whimpering slightly, and clung to Harry.

"Wait… what?" Harry asked, and Neville grinned as he stepped into the room. Carefully, Harry pried Hermione off of himself and held her out at arm's length. "Once more," he said, "_slowly_."

"You already know everything she said, Harry," Arthur spoke up, and Hermione blinked, staring at him.

"You're not Professor Snape," she spoke up. Studying his posture carefully, Hermione blinked in surprise. "Mr. Weasley?" she asked, a slight smile on her face.

"Hello, Hermione," Arthur smiled, and Neville gaped – it was an odd sight to see on the Potions Professor's face, even if it wasn't really Snape. "I'll leave you to your visit, shall I? Coming down, Moody!" he called out the window, and stepped onto the platform, which Moody slowly lowered down. "Remus will come get you two in about an hour, Neville, Hermione. See you in three days, Harry!" he called as he sank out of sight.

"How are you, Harry?" Hermione asked as soon as Arthur was gone.

Harry smiled half-heartedly. "I'm all right? What about all of you?"

"I'm all right, mate," Neville said wearily. "Just tired." Moving slowly, he sank down onto Harry's bed, and Harry shifted slightly to allow Hermione room to join them. Looking slightly nervous, Hermione perched on the side of the bed by Harry's hip, watching Neville anxiously.

"Madam Pomfrey was furious," she said in a low voice. "It was bad enough that he'd had a heart attack, she said, but only a month after being hit by the Cruciatus Curse – she was _furious_."

"Dumbledore looked right shocked, too," Neville murmured, and Hermione nodded.

"He was horrified," she agreed. "But that doesn't make up for–" Swallowing, Hermione shook her head. "So," she asked, "what have you been up to?"

"Not much," Harry replied woefully. "There isn't much to do around here. The Dursleys have been leaving me alone – they're all out of here by seven every morning – and haven't made me do any chores, so I have nothing to do, really. I've started revising to occupy myself."

Neville winced. "Oh, dear," he muttered, and Hermione shrieked, a delighted smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, Harry, I always _knew_ you'd do wonderfully if you just applied yourself! You're quite brilliant, you and Ron both, you know, just lazy, the both of you! Oh, Harry, I'm so _proud_!"

Harry stared at her, slightly overwhelmed. "Well, it's… it's not so bad," he said slowly, "in small doses, I mean, I just do a little at a time–"

"But that's exactly it, Harry, that's what you're supposed to do! A little at a time! Oh, Harry, I'm so _pleased_!"

She beamed at him. Neville snickered.

Harry sighed.

* * *

The house was silent as Arthur slipped through the door, trudging wearily down the hall. In the kitchen, Remus leaned over the stove, glancing up as Arthur entered. "Morning, Arthur," he said cheerfully. "Cup of tea?" 

"Please," Arthur asked tiredly, slowly lowering himself into a chair at the table as the Polyjuice Potion wore off. Remus handed him a cup, a look of concern on his face, and sat down opposite the older man.

"Are you all right?" he asked, frowning.

Arthur didn't answer, gulping down a long swallow of tea. Setting the dup down with shaking hands, Arthur closed his eyes. "I can't believe–" His voice shook and he opened his eyes again, staring almost pleadingly at Remus. "We knew it was bad. The summer after Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione's first year, my boys had to pull bars off Harry's window to get him out of there. And so many times, I almost stormed over there to take him away, but Dumbledore always stopped me – Every time I look at that boy, I remember every day that I almost went and saved him, but didn't. And every time I look at that boy, I hate myself."

Remus didn't want to ask, but– "Was it really that bad?" he asked in a small voice, and Arthur snorted.

"Of course it's that bad," Arthur replied. "He's Harry bloody Potter, what else would it be? I don't understand why nothing can ever go right for the boy."

"Some things have," Remus pointed out. "He has a lot of people who care about him."

"And have done nothing," Arthur replied. "_Yet_."

Sitting up straighter, Arthur continued. "Hermione came to me last summer, practically begging me to get him out of that house. Did she get you, too?"

"Yes," Remus winced.

"She was right, too. She warned us – she warned us all – that he'd feel furious and betrayed. She told us what that place does to him. And I – I couldn't listen," Arthur said wearily. "I couldn't stand to hear it, because I knew she was right, and I knew that Dumbledore would never let me get Harry out of that place. I think I forgot for a while that I was my own man…" He picked up his cup again, gazing off into the distance. "Not Dumbledore's."

"What we really need," Remus said mournfully, "is a legal standing to get Harry away from him. If Sirius left guardianship to any of us–"

"I know," Arthur agreed. "The answer is in that will." Sighing, he drained the last of his tea and stood. "Let me show you something."

He led Remus to a room on the top floor, just below the attic, where the Order stored one of its many pensieves. The viewing room was usually used for reporting to Dumbledore, as a private place for a more thorough debriefing. Entering the smaller viewing room, Arthur locked the door behind Remus and keyed it to himself. Often, after stressful missions, Dumbledore would allow the members of his order to choose a viewing room in which to store their memories, and would block it from entry by others. With a few simple spells, Arthur set the room up so only he, Remus, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George, Tonks, Kingsley and Moody could enter. Standing over the pensieve, he placed his wand against his temple with a shaky hand. He withdrew over three dozen memories, placing them all in the pensieve.

When he had finished, he and Remus stared at the pensieve with haunted faces. "I don't want to go in," Remus said finally.

"Neither do I, son," Arthur agreed softly, and they both stepped forward, touching the silvery substance.

_They were hurtled, headfirst, into a small, empty crawl-space. As they watched in horror, Petunia Dursley opened the door of the space, an infant dangling from her hand, and shoved the black-haired baby in. Glaring at the child, she slammed the door, and the baby cried. Harry Potter was only one year old. _

_It was Christmas, and a small boy peeked around the doorway to the living room, watching as the happy family exchanged gifts. "Why don't I get any presents?" he whispered, and Vernon Dursley looked up. As Petunia looked away, the large man slapped the boy across the face before ordering him back into his cupboard while the "good people celebrate!" Harry Potter was three years old. _

"_My parents love me," a crying little boy exclaimed, "and they'll come get me and put you in jail."_  
"_No, they don't," Vernon Dursley replied, laughing cruelly. "If they did, they would BE HERE!"_  
"_They love me," the boy said stubbornly, and the man cuffed him across the face._  
"_Make my breakfast!" he roared.  
Harry Potter was five years old. _

Staring at the little boy, Remus whimpered, and the memories sped up.

"_What's this I hear about you turning your teacher's wig blue, boy?" Vernon Dursley boomed, and the child cowered._  
"_I didn't do it!"_  
"_DON'T YOU LIE TO ME BOY!" Dursley screamed. "Cupboard! Now! One week!"  
Harry Potter was six years old. _

_Harry Potter was six years old, and crying in the corner of his dark cupboard as a small mouse scurried across his foot. _

_Harry Potter was seven years old and ducking as Dudley Dursley swung a bat at his head. _

_Harry Potter was seven years old and watching as Dudley Dursley told the police that Harry, not Dudley, had broken the old lady's headlights. _

_Harry Potter was eight years old, locked in his cupboard for three days without food because he aced his tests._  
"_They're – they're really dead?" the boy asked, his voice quavering. "But – but you said –"_  
"_We lied," Vernon Dursley grinned. "Don't ask questions – go to your cupboard."  
Harry Potter was eight years old. _

"_What did my parents do for work?" a frightened little boy asked._  
"_Your mother was a prostitute and your father was a drunken bum," Vernon Dursley replied from behind his newspaper, smirking slightly._  
"_My mother was beautiful," the boy insisted, his voice shaking. "She was smart and funny and nice, and _she loved me_."_  
"_Your mother was a whore, boy, don't question me. Go to your cuppoard!"  
Harry Potter was nine years old. _

_Harry Potter was ten years old, and locked in his cupboard for two weeks, forced to catch and eat spiders to survive. _

_Harry Potter was ten years old, laying on Mrs. Figg's floor and looking through her photo albums, wondering why he wasn't good enough to go with the Dursleys on their vacations. _

_Harry Potter was eleven years old, running to his cupboard after returning from the zoo, not to be let out until school was over. _

"Is it done yet?" Remus whispered, tears running down his face.

"No," Arthur replied shortly.

_Harry Potter was eleven years old, struggling as his uncle dragged him to Dudley Dursley's second bedroom and locked him in. _

_Harry Potter was twelve years old, wondering why no one was coming for him. _

_Harry Potter was thirteen years old, shaking as Marge Dursley slandered his parents. _

_Harry Potter was fourteen years old, watching Cedric fall again and again. _

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, hearing Mr. Weasley's shouts as Nagini bit him. _

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, writing again and again, "I must not tell lies."_

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, watching in horror as Ron came stumbling through the Department of Mysteries, giggling madly._

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, watching Ginny sink to the floor of the Department of Mysteries with a broken ankle. _

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, watching Luna fall to the floor of the Department of Mysteries, stunned. _

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, watching as Hermione fell to the ground and Dolohov smiled. _

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, watching as Neville screamed and writhed under the Cruciatus Curse._

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, watching as Sirius fell through the veil._

_Harry Potter was fifteen years old, raging and screaming in Dumbledore's office as the old man watched him serenely. _

"_No one will come for you, boy," Vernon Dursley said angrily. "They'll leave you here, to be a burden on us. All you are is a burden. Sooner or later, they'll realize that, and when they do, they won't be rid of you soon enough."_  
"_Moody will come for me," the boy rounded on his uncle angrily. "Remember him? What about Arthur Weasley – he blew up the living room, as I'm sure you recall. Or Professor Lupin – he was my dad and my godfather's best friend, you know… Maybe Tonks, she had pink hair – she's an Auror, you know. They're like the police and the military all in one!"  
Paling, Dursley stared at the boy. "Your godfather's better off dead," he spat finally. "All of you are. Parasites on the good, hardworking, _normal _people. Good riddance to all of you."  
The man stormed away, slamming the door. The boy listened carefully, flinching as he heard the locks slide home, and a tear slipped from his eye.  
Harry Potter was fifteen years old. _

Remus felt a hand on his shoulder and he was pulled from the pensive, landing hard on the floor. Wincing in sympathy, Arthur looked down at the younger man, who stared off into space. "I left him there," Remus said brokenly. "I left him – I could have taken him away… So many times, I tried to go to see him, but I just _couldn't_ face him, knowing I'd have to leave him there, I just _couldn't_… I left him there, I LEFT HIM!"

"We all did, son," Arthur said sadly. "I didn't know him as a baby, but the second he stepped foot through my door I should never have let him go back to that place. We listened to Dumbledore, and that was a mistake. But _we don't have to_ anymore, Remus."

The younger man shook his head and bit his lip, tears still running down his face. "I'll show this to the others," Arthur said. "We all need to understand what he's been through. We won't show it to Dumbledore, he has no right – but we'll talk to him, Remus. We'll make him understand, and if in two weeks, he hasn't given in, we'll just take Harry anyway. But we _need_ to find that will, Remus. The answer is in the will."

When Remus nodded, shakily, Arthur stood up and moved over to a smaller pensieve sitting in the corner. "Come on," he said quietly, after adding a few memories. "You need a pick-me-up." And they stepped into the pensieve to view some of the truly happy memories Arthur had managed to glean from Harry's mind.

There were none from before Harry's first year at Hogwarts.

* * *

It was a somber group that gathered in Sirius's bedroom that night. When Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, Bill and Charlie had returned home from work – or in the case of Charlie, his missions, and Moody, his rest – Arthur had taken them all into the pensieve to view the things he had seen during his Occlumency lesson with Harry. Even after taking them into the happier pensieve, the group was still shaken. Tonks was on the verge of tears, Kingsley looked horrified, Bill and Charlie were white with rage, and even Moody, the eighty-plus year veteran Auror, looked ashen. 

But it was Remus who worried Arthur the most. Remus looked as if he'd been shattered.

"Remus, are there any things in this room that won't open?" Tonks asked after an hour of searching, brushing her long blue hair out of her face. "Maybe you need a Marauder password to find it."

"I don't think so," Remus frowned, "he couldn't be sure I'd be the one searching for it, after all."

"Are you certain he would have thought far enough ahead to realize that?" Kingsley pointed out. "You _were_ his best friend, he may have assumed–"

"No, I doubt it," Remus murmured. Spinning around, his gaze landed on the bed and he froze. "Harry," he murmured, a dawning awareness coming into his eyes.

"What?" Arthur stared at him, his brow furrowed.

"Last summer," Remus began, "Harry told – told Sirius and me that he has a loose floorboard under his bed at the Dursleys. He hides his school things and prized possessions–"

"Which is all of them, and few there are," Tonks added darkly.

"–under there." Staring steadily at the bed, Remus took a step forward. "Move the bed."

They complied, Bill, Charlie, Kingsley and Moody moving to stand on different ends of the bed and levitating it several feet to the right, with Moody staring out the back of his head all the while. As the bed moved, a square mural came into view – an image of the lake at Hogwarts, with a stag, a werewolf and a large black dog standing together by its shore. Remus stared at the picture, tears coming to his eyes, as the image shimmered slightly.

"Like I thought," Tonks murmured, watching Remus worriedly. "He left this with you in mind."

Remus nodded mutely before speaking, choking slightly on the words. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The stag bowed, and the other two animals in the image sank into a crouch. When they stilled in those positions, the floorboard lifted to reveal a small hideaway big enough for several boxes to be stacked side by side.

"Blimey," Charlie breathed, staring down into the hole.

There were hundreds of rolls of parchment stacked in a pyramidal structure on the bottom of the hideaway, all tied with red ribbon. Next to the parchment rolls were several crates full of Muggle notebooks, as if Sirius had abandoned parchment for a more expedient manner of recording. And laying atop the crates was a single roll of parchment, tied with a silver ribbon.

Sirius's will.

Remus reached for it with trembling fingers, lifting it from the hideaway.

He didn't think he'd give it to Dumbledore just yet.

"This is incredible," Tonks whispered. "How much does he _have_ on…?"

"It'll be interesting reading," Kingsley agreed, and Remus stepped aside so they could begin to gather the documents.

"Excuse me," Bill murmured, slipping around them, and he reached for the tenth roll of parchment on the bottom, unrolling it slowly. It looked slightly more worn than the others, as if it had been handled many times. As Bill scanned the roll of parchment, he paled, and his eyes flashed with rage.

"Bill?" Arthur questioned anxiously, and Bill shook his head.

Looking up, Bill stared at them all. "Why didn't anybody tell me that the wards on Privet Drive are blood wards?"

"What do you mean?" Charlie questioned, his brow furrowed, but Remus froze. _Blood wards… _

"No," he muttered. "No, no, no…" Snatching the roll of parchment from Bill's hand, he read it hurriedly, cringing at the line written in a heavy hand.

_June 24th, 1995  
H kidnapped by LV in final task of Triwizard Tournament. Used H's blood in restoration potion. _Successfully touched H without feeling any pain. Now has H & L's blood in his veins.  
**D says wards on PD are blood wards. Can be breached by LV. Demanded H be moved.  
D refused**.

Shaking, Remus dropped the scroll. "I forgot," he whispered. "Oh lord, I _forgot_!"

"We have to get him out of there," Bill said. "Now."

"Let me see that," Moody grunted, and he took the parchment, reading it aloud. "Albus, you old fool," he muttered when he had finished.

"I agree with Bill," Charlie said, gulping. "We have to get him tonight."

"Not necessarily," Kingsley said slowly, and the others stared at him. "It _has_ been over a year, and Voldemort hasn't touched him there. Maybe _he_ doesn't know. Look," he continued. "We have a lot to go through here. We have to figure out where to put Harry and how to placate Dumbledore when we take him anyway. Bill, on Moody's next shift, go over to Harry's house and set up some more detection wards. Tie them to you and set up a time-delay on Dumbledore's wards so we'll be notified _first_ if anything happens. Let's wait two weeks like we were going to do. We need to figure everything out, first."

"Fine," Remus said slowly. "Fine. But I want to go stay with him until we get him out."

Arthur shook his head. "Not you," he said. "I'm sorry, Remus, but we'll need your help to get through all of these documents. You know Sirius better than we."

"Fine," Remus bit out again.

"Charlie can go," Arthur said. "You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"Not at all," Charlie agreed. "My last mission is over and Dumbledore hasn't assigned a new one to me yet, and I have nowhere else to go besides the Burrow. I'll see what I can do to get assigned there."

"Thank you," Remus breathed, and Arthur smiled.

"Keep him sane for us, eh?" Arthur asked his son, and Charlie nodded.

"When we bring the will to Dumbledore, I'll ask him about it," the second-eldest Weasley son offered.

"Good, good," Moody grunted. "See, Remus? We'll take care of our boy just fine. Now, let's take a look at that will."

Nodding, Remus unrolled the will on the bed and bent over it, the others gathering around him.

* * *

_Dated July 17, 1995_

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_I, Sirius Orion Black, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath my estate in the following manner:_

_To Remus John Lupin, I leave one thousand galleons. _

_To Nymphadora Tonks, I leave one thousand galleons. _

_To Arthur Weasley, I leave one thousand galleons. _

_To William Weasley, I leave one thousand galleons. _

_To Charles Weasley, I leave one thousand galleons. _

_To Kingsley Shacklebolt, I leave one thousand galleons. _

_To Alastor Moody, I leave one thousand galleons. _

_To Hermione Jane Granger, I leave five hundred galleons. _

_To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave five hundred galleons. _

_To Ginevra Molly Weasley, I leave five hundred galleons. _

_The remainder of my estate, including all properties, titles, and possessions, I leave to the current head of the House of Potter. _

_The guardianship of Harry James Potter, I leave jointly to Remus Lupin and Arthur & Molly Weasley. _

_Signed 17 July 1995,_

S. Orion Black

"That's odd," Remus frowned. ""The Head of the House of Potter"? Harry's the only Potter left."

"It's not that unusual," Tonks corrected him. "A lot of families use formal language like that for the main beneficiary. The Blacks certainly did. Mum told me that there was even some sort of spell which would make the entire will invalid if it wasn't written in that manner. He had to do it that way, or Harry would inherit nothing."

"Mmm…" Remus agreed after a moment, setting the will aside. Sighing, he rolled his shoulders before kneeling before one of the crates and pulling out a notebook. Leaning back against the wall, he sat down and opened the notebook to the first page and began to read, and all the others did the same.

_July 15th, 1995  
Asked D to move H again. Another refusal. Think Hr is going to go crazy. Says H will be furious, feel betrayed. She's right. _

_July 16th, 1995  
Talked to D again about blood wards. Claims perfectly safe, LV can't get through. Don't think so. Can't find that old tome from Black library. Think Kreacher stole it. Must find it. It had the answers. _

_July 17th, 1995  
Found book, found wards. Called _Ara Sanguinis – Protection by Blood _Uses the shared blood between L and P to protect H _as long as he calls PD HOME. Second he speaks of it as the D's home, not his, protection disappears.

"Charlie," Remus spoke up, wincing. "I think we need to go see Dumbledore now."

* * *

_Next Chapter:  
Chapter 3 - The Head of the Noble House_

Review if you have something to say.

Cheers,  
**LIZ **


	4. The Head of the Noble House

**Wishful Thinking**

Chapter 3 – The Head of the Noble House

"And why, exactly, do you need to stay with Harry, Charles?" Dumbledore asked, peering at the man over steepled fingers.

"He could benefit greatly from a bit of fitness training, Professor," Charlie replied without a hitch. "You've already told me I get a few weeks off, so I was thinking I could stay with him for a week or two, maybe get him up to snuff. He's a pretty scrawny kid, Professor."

"Yes, he is that," Dumbledore agreed, smiling. "However, I'm sure you can understand my concerns, Charles – if Voldemort were to find out–"

"With all due respect, sir," Charlie interrupted, "if You-Know – V-voldemort finds out I'm there, you haven't warded the area very well. And my family is already at the top of his Hit List. I won't let that stop me from helping him."

"But staying with him, Charles?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward. "Do you really think that necessary?"

"Quite frankly, I do," Charlie replied, "discounting all other reasons, it's a good idea for security purposes alone."

"Hmmm," Dumbledore murmured, and he spun in his chair, turning to stare out the window. "Were it your younger brothers coming to me with this request, Charles, I would likely be less sympathetic. But as I understand your concerns, and as I know you understand my own, I will grant this request. Please see to it, however, that you do not practice magic on the premises; I'm afraid Cornelius would be quite happy for any reason to prosecute – or persecute, as the case may be – young Harry."

"Don't worry, Professor, I'll be careful," Charlie soothed, smiling at the elderly wizard.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore smiled brightly. "I'm sure Harry will enjoy your company – see to it that his next few weeks are productive. Shall I see you out?" he added, rising.

"Oh, no, Professor," Charlie replied, and he clambered to his feet, waving the professor back into his seat. "I'll just be on my way. Thank you, Professor."

"Not at all, my boy, not at all!" Dumbledore smiled jovially and, as Charlie left the office, turned back to the large pile of paperwork teetering on his desk.

Charlie waited until he was in the Entrance Hall before speaking again. "'Scrawny', my arse," he muttered angrily. "Malnourished and abused is what he is. I swear that man is blind…"

Shaking his head, Charlie wandered out of the school and made his way slowly to the gates, apparating away to the Burrow to pick up his things.

He'd packed the night before, after all. If Dumbledore had refused his request, he would have gone anyway.

* * *

"Is Charlie in place yet?" Remus asked absently, glancing up from the notebook he was reading.

"He's on his way," Tonks replied as she turned a page. "Look at this," she muttered, shoving her notebook Remus's way. Sitting up slowly, Remus shifted until he was sprawled next to Tonks on the plush rug, and read the last page of the notebook aloud.

" '_July 30, 1995_

_Walked into kitchen and found DD sitting there, staring at the wall. Didn't notice me so I backed up and listened from outside the door. Muttered something about failing everyone, sacrificing too many. Said something about stealing something from H… I'm getting worried. _

_Aside from H's childhood and peace of mind, I'm not sure what else DD has stolen from him... Afraid to find out. DD seemed more stressed about what he was muttering about than he was about sending H to PD. Can't be good. _

_I'm scared for H.' _"

Finished reading, Remus leaned back, shock and confusion warring on his face. "What has he done _now_?" he demanded, staring at the notebook. "What _else_ could he have done?"

"I don't know, but I need to get to work," Tonks replied, pushing herself to her feet. "I was late yesterday and Dawlish nearly killed me. Good luck," she smiled grimly, rushing out of the room.

"Yeah, nice talking to you too," Remus muttered. Sighing tiredly, he reached for a new notebook, having exhausted the one he'd been reading. The night before, he, Kingsley and Bill had carefully gone through all the scrolls and notebooks, arranging them in chronological order. Moody had begun with the scrolls from immediately after Harry's third year. Arthur, his hands shaking, had begun with Harry's forced entrance into the Triwizard Tournament.

From that point onward, Sirius's records increased greatly in number, and the group had been forced to divide the records from Harry's fifth year among Tonks, Bill, Kingsley and Remus. Remus had quickly seized on to the notebooks chronicling the summer between Harry's fourth and fifth years – he remembered wondering what Sirius had been doing, writing so often. But somehow, Tonks had ended up with one from his pile, and continued reading rather than replace it. Swearing under his breath, Remus rifled through the pile, searching for the notebook which followed after the one Tonks had showed him. After a few moments of frantic searching, he found it and opened to the first page, reading hurriedly.

_July 31, 1995_

_Happy birthday, H. Went to __Gringotts__ today, checked __H.'s__ finances. Whatever DD's stealing, it isn't money. Have a bit of an _in_ with the goblins – promised they'd watch H's accounts carefully. Turns out DD is the executor of the will of L&J. Doesn't sound good, but goblins say nothing fishy has happened with H's vaults, transactions, etc. Asked to be notified each time money withdrawn from H's vaults, goblins agreed. _

_Whatever DD's stolen, it isn't material. I'm getting very worried. _

He turned the page.

_August 1st, 1995_

_Got in a bit of a row with DD today. H's birthday was yesterday and DD said he'd be moved last night. H still isn't here, no attempt to get him has been made. _

_Hr frantic – says he'll feel betrayed, wants to talk to him. Trying to think of a way – should have given H my other mirror when I met him. Could be very useful right now. _

_Following a paper trail. DD accidentally forgot some things here this morning – records, scraps of To-Do Lists… It looks like he's hiding someone in an __Unplottable__ location. Who?_

_Going to try to get into DD's personal __Pensieve__ Room sometime during the school year. If I can find that –_

Heart racing, Remus flipped quickly through the notebook, stopping on the next page that mentioned the word "Pensieve".

_August 31st, 1995_

_Had a perfect opportunity, so decided not to wait. Got into the __Pensieve__ room, but it was empty. DD's watching me carefully now. Think he thinks I'm cracking. Found nothing new to suggest he's hiding anyone. Don't know what to think._

_H leaves for Hogwarts tomorrow with friends. I don't know if he'll be safe there… _

He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disappointed. Slowly, he flipped back a few pages...

_August 12th, 1995_

_Hearing was this morning. H got off. Looked extremely forlorn when returned, though – asked Hr, she didn't know why. DD hasn't even come to the house yet – wonder what he's up to. _

_Somehow, I think _he's_ the one who put that confused expression on H's face. _

…

_August 24th, 1995_

_Thinking about pulling H out of Hogwarts. Found out today that D.U. will be teaching this year. DD tried to block, but should have done _something_. H should be warned. I'll find some way to tell him without _saying_ it outright. He needs to be warned. He'll be her main target. DD says say nothing. _

_Unfortunately, as an escaped prisoner, I have no legal right to pull H out of school. _

_If only L&J were here… _

Eyes prickling with tears, Remus leaned back, staring at the notebook. How many times had he wished the very same thing?

* * *

The sound of the doorbell chimed softly through the small, tidy house. On the front stoop, a stocky red-haired man waited patiently, his eyes roving around the property as he stood there. After a moment, a thin, bony woman came to the door, peering nervously at him. "Can I help you?" she asked hesitantly, and Charlie smiled.

"My name is Charlie Weasley, ma'am," he said, watching her carefully. "I've been sent by Albus Dumbledore."

The woman looked as if she'd swallowed a lemon. "I see," she said shortly. "My name is Petunia Dursley, Mr. Weasley; please come in."

And she opened the door all the way, turning and stalking off.

"What a welcome," Charlie murmured, and he stepped through the open doorway, closing the door behind himself, and followed the woman into the kitchen.

Fred and George had described the house as unnaturally clean – an opinion Tonks had seconded the night before – and Charlie could see why. Peering around the kitchen, he saw no signs that anyone _lived_ in the house; it looked like a show-piece. Biting back a resigned sigh, he turned his gaze on the woman glaring at him from behind the kitchen counter.

"Well? What do you want?" she spat, her face darkening.

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Charlie murmured, trying hard not to snicker. "As I said, my name is Charlie Weasley, and I am here on behalf of Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. We would like to maintain a presence here, ma'am, to ensure that no one is harmed in any way in this household."

Petunia Dursley went pale in record time. "Are you suggesting that we–"

"Of course not!" Charlie soothed. "I'm simply here to humor some of the higher-ups, you see; personally, I'd rather be off in Romania right now. I work there, you know, training dragons."

"Drr-dragons?" the Dursley woman repeated, her face, if possible, even whiter.

"Yep!" Charlie replied. "Of course, I'll pay rent and help with paying for the food – I'm hoping to be able to convince Dumbledore that this is unnecessary in about a fortnight. And it would be best, honestly, if you didn't mention this conversation at all – were Dumbledore to feel I wasn't taking this seriously, he might remove me and send someone less… sympathetic," Charlie finished, his voice low and concerned. As he finished his impromptu speech, he reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew a large roll of pounds, placing them on the counter in front of the woman without ever breaking eye contact.

"Very – very well," Petunia Dursley said slowly, her eyes sliding down to the bills on the counter. "The boy's in his room, up the stairs and to the right."

_Check_, Charlie thought behind his kind smile. "You don't mind if I look around a bit, do you?" he asked politely.

The woman swallowed. "Not at all," she said stiffly. "Just please stay out of the bedrooms – except the boys' and the guest room, of course."

"I'm afraid I'll have to stay in Harry's room, actually," Charlie grimaced. "I don't much look forward to having to share my space, but at least it's with a decent kid, and it's on Dumbledore's orders anyway."

"That's quite all right," the Dursley woman replied, looking almost relieved. "Perhaps you would be willing to help us make him do his chores? He's such a lazy boy, so ungrateful after everything we've done for him. It's just small things, of course, weeding the garden, doing the dishes…"

"I'll do what I can," Charlie smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Dursley," he added, and quickly swept from the room, heading through to the living room to get a feel for the layout of the house.

The first thing he noticed was the photographs around the house. Gazing around the living room, he couldn't find any sign that more than one boy lived in the house. There were pictures of a large pink beach ball lining the mantle, a large, round blond-haired boy on a tricycle, and a boy opening his presents with a mountain of others surrounding him. There were a few family portraits as well as some pictures of the boy with his mother alone and with his father alone.

Harry wasn't included in any of them.

Shaking his head, he walked quickly through the remainder of the bottom level, pausing before the cupboard under the stairs. His hands shook slightly and his jaw clenched as he stared at it – he'd seen all too much of the place in the memories his father had shown him…

All that time, the boy had been suffering alone – and they'd done nothing.

Turning on his heel, he walked up the stairs, glancing back at the cupboard as he went. He'd be sure to leave the Dursleys a going-away present when he took Harry away. With that thought in mind, he smiled as he walked up the stairs and knocked on the door to Harry's room.

It wasn't hard to pick out the right one, after all. Fred and George had told him the summer before Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville's second year that there were locks on the _outside_ of Harry's bedroom.

If only he'd believed them.

A somewhat bemused Harry Potter opened the door, staring at the Weasley man. "Charlie?" he asked, gaping, and the second-eldest Weasley son grinned.

"Budge over, Harry," he said cheerfully, and he slipped by the younger boy, shutting the door behind himself. With a wave of his wand, he cast a few detection charms that Bill had taught him, smirking slightly as he saw the results. "Nicely done, Dad," he murmured. "Right!" he added jovially, turning to face the stunned black-haired boy, shutting the open window with a spell as he went. "I've been sent by Dad, Remus, Tonks, Moody and Shacklebolt to stay with you until we can get you out of here. Dumbledore knows; he thinks I'm here to teach you personal fitness – which I _will_ do. Dad'll be coming by the day after tomorrow for your next Occlumency lesson, and he'll be teaching me, as well. Oh, and Sirius left everything to you in his will."

Blinking in shock, Harry sat down hard on his bed.

Charlie smiled. He loved having that effect on people.

* * *

It was a quiet day at the Burrow. Charlie had left only twenty minutes before to go stay with Harry, Mr. Weasley had left for work ten minutes earlier, Bill was off at Gringotts and Fred and George were at their shop. Sprawled around Ron's room, which they had made their de facto headquarters, the five teens read quietly, searching for something to help their friend.

"If they had any wards based on the blood of friends," Neville said quietly, "a ward powered by blood sacrifice, but not blood of the dead, we could do that."

"But there _are_ none that we've found," Ginny added miserably. "And as much as we need to keep Harry safe, we can't kill someone to do it."

"I know," Hermione replied wearily, rubbing her hair from her face, "but we need –"

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Ron quickly invited the person in, turning to see his mother standing in the doorway.

"Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said nervously, "there's been a firecall for you. Remus wants you over at Grimmauld Place."

The others looked up, gazing at Hermione. The brown-haired witch nodded quietly, smiling tightly at the others. "I'll let you know," she murmured and, picking up her sweater and bookbag from the back of Ron's desk chair, and sliding her wand up her sleeve, she followed Mrs. Weasley from the room.

* * *

Remus stood back as the fire turned green, watching as Hermione stepped out from the flames. "Thanks for coming," he said tersely, and Hermione frowned.

"It's nothing, Professor, but what's the problem?"

"Remus," he corrected immediately, "I'm not your professor any longer." Without telling her any more, he led her up the stairs to Sirius's bedroom. When he shut the door behind them, Hermione frowned again and gazed around the room.

"This was Sirius's room," she said softly. "Professor – Remus – what's going on?"

When he waved her into a seat, she perched uneasily on the edge of the desk chair, so Remus settled on the dresser top. "We've been watching Dumbledore for a year," he said quietly, "Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, Arthur, Sirius and I. Bill and Charlie have been helping, too," he began slowly.

"You have to understand, Hermione," he continued, "for Sirius and me, Harry has always been the first priority. James was the only one of us to have any children, and despite what Peter did, the four of us were brothers. James's son is the Marauder's Heir, and the responsibility of all of us, whether we like it or not.

"We swore a blood oath, Sirius, Peter and I, to always look out for Harry. We've paid dearly for our failures – Pettigrew, Snape told us, nearly died himself after the end of the Third Task, because he went against his blood oath. He harmed Harry quite grievously. Sirius suffered for thinking of revenge before Harry back in 1981 by spending twelve years in Azkaban. And I–"

He cut himself off, looking away. "Needless to say, Arthur loves Harry like a son, and you like a daughter. Bill, Charlie, Fred and George all see the two of you as siblings – for some reason, Percy never did. They've never sworn an oath, but it wasn't necessary. And Tonks – she likes Harry. So does Kingsley. They both want him to be safe _and_ happy. And as for Moody – he doesn't like what he's seen lately. We all know things would be better if the Potters were alive – but that's just wishful thinking," he added bitterly.

He paused there, glancing at Hermione to gage her reaction. "Sirius, especially, was livid last summer about the way Harry was being treated. We found a pile of records underneath his bed, and his will – we're all going through them right now, but I'm the only one who really has time to do it. Dumbledore's pulled me off active duty to let me grieve. So I need your help – you'll know what to watch for."

Hermione nodded silently as his voice trailed off. Moving to kneel on the floor, she picked up a discarded notebook and began to read.

Sighing in relief, Remus settled in beside her, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

"This doesn't bode well for us," Hermione murmured, gesturing to a passage from a notebook Remus had already read.

_July 17th, 1995_

_Found book, found wards. Called _Ara Sanguinis – Protection by Blood_. Uses the shared blood between L and P to protect H **as long as he calls PD HOME**. Second he speaks of it as the D's home, not his, protection disappears. _

"How long have you given yourselves to get him out?" she asked.

"Two weeks," Remus replied, "starting the day Dumbledore showed up at the Burrow."

"You don't have that much time," Hermione replied. "Harry _hates_ it there, and with his current mood, it won't be long before he explodes and brings the wards down."

"Unfortunately, that's not our only pressing problem," Remus said in a strained voice. Pulling another notebook over, he opened it to a marked page and passed it to the young witch.

_July 30, 1995_

_Walked into kitchen and found DD sitting there, staring at the wall. Didn't notice me so I backed up and listened from outside the door. Muttered something about failing everyone, sacrificing too many. Said something about stealing something from H… I'm getting worried. _

_Aside from H's childhood and peace of mind, I'm not sure what else DD has stolen from him... Afraid to find out. DD seemed more stressed about what he was muttering about than he was about sending H to PD. Can't be good. _

_I'm scared for H._

Blinking in shock, Hermione looked up. "Are there more like this?"

Wordlessly, Remus turned to the next incriminating passage, then the next, then the next. When he had finished, Hermione leaned back, a look of fright on her face. "'Whatever Dumbledore's stolen, it isn't material,'" she quoted. "What could it be? His inheritance?" she asked, glancing at Remus, who shook his head.

"Harry can't legally touch the Potter vaults until he's seventeen," he explained, and Hermione bit her lip, frowning. "Besides, that would be material."

"Not if you take it to mean his legacy," Hermione murmured, then shook her head. "It doesn't fit. What–?"

"I think it has something to do with Harry's placement," Remus said quietly. "It's unusual for Dumbledore to be involved in the custody case of an orphan, and I know the Potters wouldn't have wanted Harry anywhere near the Dursleys–"

Hermione blinked, staring at him. An orphan. Funny, she'd never thought of Harry as an –

The thought screeched to a halt, and Hermione paled. "No," she whispered, "oh no, oh no, oh no…"

"Hermione?" Remus questioned nervously, getting slowly to his feet.

"No," she shook her head. "It can't–"

She ran, crashing through the doors of the Black family library, and immediately raced to the section about magical artifacts. Rifling through the books, ignoring Remus, who ran in behind her, she finally found the one she was looking for. Setting it down on a table nearby, she flipped through the pages quickly before stopping and skimming a passage midway through the book.

Remus stared, confused, at the heading.

_The Mirror of __Erised_

"Go to Gringotts," Hermione said, paling even further. "Ask about Harry's inheritance. I have to go to Hogwarts – Professor Flitwick will let me through – I think… oh, I hope I'm wrong!"

She raced from the room without another word, leaving Remus staring after her in shock. A moment later, he heard her call out "Filius Flitwick's Office!", and the house was silent.

Sighing, Remus went to get his cloak. He didn't know what the girl was on about, but he knew it'd be best to do as she asked.

She was a rather bright witch, after all.

* * *

As she had expected, Professor Flitwick had accepted her explanation that she needed to look up some things for Harry. Glancing around nervously, listening for any sound of the Filch or his cat, she came to the seventh floor corridor and stopped, pacing back and forth over a blank stretch of wall three times.

_I need to see the current Potter family tapestry_, she thought. _I need to see the current Potter family tapestry. I need to see the current Potter family tapestry… _

A door appeared, and holding her breath, she stepped through it.

It was a little known fact, Hermione mused as she stared at the black tapestry weaved with gold, shutting the door behind her, that the names of deceased members of the family faded somewhat. Walking across the room, she stopped before the hanging tapestry, skipping down to scan the bottom…

…and staring at the three glittering names.

Raising her wand, she tapped it against the first glowing name.

_Unplottable_, the label appeared.

She tapped her wand against the second.

_Unplottable_.

The third.

_Unplottable_

She stared. Eyes sparkling with rage, she thought clearly, _I need the walls soundproofed_.

And screamed.

* * *

The goblins rushed Remus into a private room off the lobby, their black eyes glittering nervously.

"I must say, Mr. Lupin, this is an unusual request," the head goblin began.

"I understand that, and apologize," Remus said lightly. "However, Harry Potter has asked me to check into his finances, and I would ask that you inform me of his status and any inheritances he may have."

"This _is_ most unusual," the goblin stalled a bit longer. Finally, shifting nervously, he asked to see Sirius's will, which Remus held out to him. After scanning the will, the goblin looked up.

"I still don't see why you're here, Mr. Lupin," the goblin replied, his voice now sounding as if he were extremely bored. "The bulk of Sirius Black's estate does not fall to Harry Potter."

"What?" With a shaking hand, Remus took the will back from the goblin, reading it again.

'_The remainder of my estate, including all properties, titles, and possessions, I leave to the current head of the House of Potter.'_

The current head of the House of Potter.

Trembling, Remus looked up, swallowing nervously. "May I use your fireplace?" he asked, and the goblin nodded.

When Remus had gone, the goblin smiled nastily. "May your gold always flow, Wolf-Wizard," he murmured, feeling a weight disappear from him. There was a soft sparkle in the air and a glow of green.

The secrecy charm has been circumvented.

The goblin smiled.

* * *

He wasn't sure he remembered where the Room of Requirement was, but nevertheless, Remus raced through the school, skidding to a halt at the landing of the seventh floor. It was somewhere nearby, he knew…

He jogged the halls for a few minutes, searching, before he finally came to the right door. Nervously, he tried the handle – it was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside, shutting the door quickly behind himself.

Hermione spun, tears streaming down her face, and pointed her wand at him for a moment before dropping it when recognition set in. Choking back further tears, she turned and, raising her wand once more, blasted a poor, helpless figurine into oblivion. Remus blinked, admiring her aim for a moment before crossing the room to grab her arm.

"You found out, then," he said, his voice low. "How?"

Hermione shook her head. "I wasn't certain," she said softly. _I need books on the Mirror of __Erised_, she thought, and a shelf of six books appeared. "Harry found this mirror for the first time over the Christmas holidays in his first year. He… he saw his parents in it. Dumbledore made him promise to stay away, and it was moved after Harry saved the Philosopher's Stone at the end of the year.

"This book," she continued, picking up an old leather-bound tome, "says that the Mirror can show you where to find that which you most desire, if it _can_ be found, and you can figure out how to work it. But Dumbledore made Harry stay away from the Mirror – then I remembered the Black family tapestry, so…"

She shrugged, setting the book down, and turned away.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered, her shoulders shaking.

"We'll find them," Remus promised.

Nodding, Hermione drew in a breath, staring ahead. Harry needed her help.

_I need books on magical tracking_, she thought, and the room morphed once more.

Before settling in to work, Remus glanced at the tapestry again, his throat tight as he gazed at the three names…

James Potter ┬ Lily Evans Potter

Harry James Potter

* * *

The house was still and silent, as it always was those days, as the red-haired woman gazed out the window. Tears stinging in her throat, she sat in the rocking chair in her baby's nursery, his blanket clenched between her shaking hands. Softly, she hummed a lullaby under her breath, broken every few seconds by her sobs.

That was how the black-haired man found her when he entered the room fifteen minutes later.

"It's not right," she whispered, tears sliding down her face. "It's not _right_, we shouldn't be hiding like this!"

"You know Dumbledore said this was for the best," the man replied, his hazel eyes sad and tired. "They're all gone–"

"But they're _not_!" the woman whispered, springing to her feet. "They _can't be_!"

"Lily," the man began, but the woman continued on.

"They're _not_ dead, James!" Lily shouted. "I can still feel him!"

James winced, looking away. "Lils, it's just wishful thinking."

But Lily wasn't listening. Rushing past him, she ran down the steps and out the front door, and James stared after her.

"Lily?" he called, and he ran to the window. Cursing as he watched her race across the grounds, he ran down the stairs and after her. "Lily?"

She came to a halt at the base of the altar they had built, all those years before. Head in her hands, she knelt before the altar, weeping quietly.

Swallowing, James knelt behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her from behind, and he smiled slightly when she leaned in to him.

"I can still feel him, James," she whispered, sobbing. "He _needs_ us. We have to go to him."

Biting back a sigh, James replied slowly, "Lily, dear, he's–"

"We _have_ to check!" Lily insisted, turning to face him. "What if he's alive, James? What if Dumbledore was wrong?"

"He would have told us by–"

"What if he _didn't_?" she demanded. "What if he wanted to keep Harry away from us for some reason, what if–?"

"Why?" James leaned back, perplexed, trying desperately to follow his wife's train of thought.

"The prophecy," she replied, and she clenched her hands into fists, blood springing up beneath her nails. Carefully, James pulled her fingers away from her palms and held her hands between his.

"He told us the whole thing, Lily," James said. "There was no reason anywhere in there to take him away from us."

"He _didn't_," Lily said desperately. "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not_. And he _hesitated_ there, James, he stopped! And _then_ he kept going – _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_"

James was silent. Absently, he picked p a leaf and twirled it between his fingers. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," Lily replied without hesitation. "There's at least one line he didn't tell us… What if the missing line says Harry has to suffer in childhood to win? What if it says he has to be taken away from us?"

"I doubt that," James began, "but it might – _might_, mind you – say that he'd be guaranteed victory if he grows up in a horrible home."

"We need to check," Lily insisted, gazing up at the stars.

Leaning back to recline in the grass, James stared at the altar, remembering the day when they'd given everything they had–

"All right."

* * *

Miles away, Harry Potter looked up from his bed in Little Whining, Surrey. He glanced over to the conjured bed beside his, where Charlie Weasley was snoring away, and at Hedwig, who was watching him closely, and got to his feet, moving to the window to gaze out at the stars.

There was nothing unusual out there – somewhere below, his latest guard lingered, and as he watched, Dudley walked by with his gang, their voices floating up through the still air of the summer night.

Harry stared up at the stars.

And he wondered why he suddenly felt so much safer.

* * *

_Next Chapter:  
Chapter 4 - All the King's Men_

Review if you have something to say.

Cheers,  
**LIZ **


	5. All the King's Men

**Wishful Thinking**

Chapter 4 – All the King's Men

"Again," Charlie demanded, watching the teen without expression, and Harry stared at him.

"_Again_?" he repeated. "But I've done a hundred push-ups already!"

"You need to learn to keep going when you're exhausted," Charlie pointed out. "You're exhausted now. Again."

Grunting angrily, Harry dropped down onto the floor again and began push-up number one-hundred-and-one. But when he was on number one-hundred-and-seven, a man appeared outside the window, and Charlie crossed the room to let his father, disguised as Snape, into the room.

The face and body of Severus Snape stepped through the window and smiled brightly at Arthur Weasley's son. And staring up at him, Harry found himself saying something he never thought he'd say to Severus Snape's face.

"Thank you!" he gasped, throwing himself at Arthur, and he wrapped his arms around the man's legs. As he did so, he snorted in amusement – Snape had extremely skinny legs, and he highly doubted the man was on any sort of exercise program.

"You'll be doing another hundred when he leaves, Potter," Charlie grinned, "don't go getting complacent on me."

"Complacent? Me?" Harry grinned innocently before moving to sit on his bed. "Okay. What are we doing today?"

"More practice," Arthur smiled, and Harry bit back a shudder – Snape had nasty teeth. "Sit down, Charlie, you need to learn Occlumency too…"

"Joy," the second-eldest Weasley son muttered, and he settled himself cross-legged on Harry's bed.

"It's not that bad, Charles," Arthur tried to soothe his son.

"Unless you're learning it from Snape."

Arthur frowned. "Snape is not very gifted at subtlety in the mind arts. His idea of Legilimency is basically what amounts to mind-rape."

"Does he do that to you, too?" Harry asked, staring at him in shock, and Arthur smiled wryly.

"How do you think I learned it so fast?" he asked. "I've gone for two hours daily and he says I only need about ten more sessions before I'll be done. I had to figure out how to use Legilimency subtly on my own."

"Am I going to learn Legilimency?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Perhaps," Arthur murmured. "Now, Charlie, you need to clear your mind entirely. Even out your breathing and focus on that. In and out, in and out. When you feel a tingling in your mind, followed by the sensation of a presence, I need you to reach out to that presence within your mind and wrap it in everyday memories which you're perfectly comfortable with everyone seeing. Then slowly and carefully push the presence out. Got that?"

Charlie nodded and shifted on the bed, trying to concentrate on his breathing. Smiling, Arthur watched him for a moment before turning to Harry. "Right, then," he said cheerfully. "Ready? _Legilimens_!"

* * *

They floo'd back to Grimmauld Place after thanking Flitwick for his help. With a hand on Hermione's arm, Remus led her up the stairs to Sirius's bedroom and shut the door behind them. The second he let the witch go, she walked over to Sirius's bed and fell onto it with a thud, her head in her hands. 

"I don't understand," she murmured as Remus perched next to her. "How could he do this to Harry? How could he?"

"There must be a reason," Remus replied. "Dumbledore has evidently done some very stupid, cruel things, Hermione – and likely many more we don't know of – but there's always been a reason, even if it's been a horrid one."

"The Slytherins say he's going senile," Hermione muttered viciously. "That's a reason."

"It's a possibility," Remus frowned, "but I doubt it. No, there's something more here."

"Does it matter?" Hermione asked, springing up. "Who cares why he did it? _Harry needs his parents_!"

"I'm not saying we shouldn't try to find them, Hermione!" Remus said angrily, his eyes flashing. "James was my best friend, and Lily was my sister! I haven't seen them in fifteen years, and I thought they were dead! Sirius _died_ thinking they were dead! I can't imagine how he feels now… He used to console himself with the knowledge that he'd see them again someday, and now he's dead, and he–"

The Marauder cut himself off and swallowed, stricken. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "I seem to be flying off the handle rather quickly these days."

"No," Hermione patted his arm nervously. "_I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to imply–"

"I know," Remus smiled. "It's all right, Hermione."

She smiled slightly before flopping back down on the bed. "So, what do we do now?"

"Call the others together," Remus replied instantly. "An emergency meeting."

"Of the whole Order?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"No," Remus replied, smiling. "Of the Order's rebels. I just hope I can hold Tonks back – she's come to view Harry as a little brother. Kingsley and Moody see him as their protégé, and you know how the Weasleys view Harry. It should be interesting," Remus smiled wolfishly.

"How are we going to tell Harry?" Hermione asked quietly, and Remus's smile disappeared.

* * *

In Auror headquarters, Tonks' head jerked up and she hissed as the amulet around her neck burned. Bill had picked the amulets up the day before to serve as signals for when the Order's rebels needed to be called, but weren't in a position to safely speak. Looking around, she saw Kingsley come out of his office, massaging his chest with a frown. The two immediately made their way to Amelia Bones' office, got sick leave due to a "mutual friend's accident" and Apparated to Grimmauld Place. 

Neither one wanted to know why they were being called.

* * *

In the back of a small shop in Diagon Alley, Fred yelped as the amulet burned, dropping the tray of potions ingredients to the floor. George came skidding into the room, slipping on the eye of newt, and their eyes met. They Apparated away, hoping desperately that Harry was all right.

* * *

In a small room in Gringotts, Bill's head jerked up and he shot to his feet, racing to his supervisor's desk. He had Apparated away before he'd even finished explaining to the man that he had to go.

* * *

Moody jerked to his feet beneath Harry's window, his wand raised instantly. He knew there was no trouble at the house – no one had gotten past him – so it must have been Lupin, calling them all to Grimmauld Place. With a scowl, he pulled out his mirror and called for Fletcher. "Relieve me," he ordered when the drunken man's face appeared, and Fletcher nodded dumbly. His scowl darkening, Moody quickly lifted the disillusionment charm he'd placed on himself upon his arrival at Privet Drive, and not a moment later, Fletcher appeared at Moody's side. The veteran ex-auror glared at the drunk as he settled in beneath Harry's window, a bottle of Firewhiskey cradled in his hands. He had no choice. Fletcher was the only one who wouldn't report to Dumbledore that he'd been called in on Moody's shift. 

The battle-scarred man disappeared with a swish of his cloak.

* * *

In Harry's room, Charlie frowned as the amulet began to burn. He knew Harry wasn't in danger – he'd been scanning the area every ten minutes, and with Moody there moments before, he knew no one had gotten in – so it must have been Remus calling them all. He wished he could go – whatever it was, it would have to be big. Remus wouldn't risk alerting Dumbledore to their rebellion over a minor issue. But his orders were clear. He was to stay with Harry until the poor boy could leave the godforsaken shack he'd been dumped into. 

Sighing, Charlie looked over at Harry, who was on his one-hundredth chin-up, using a conjured bar. "Again," he ordered shortly.

Harry groaned, hanging limply from the bar.

* * *

"What's she doing here?" Moody growled immediately as he shut the door behind himself. Hermione sat up from where she'd been sprawled on the floor reading Sirius's notes and glared at Moody, looking extremely affronted. "Isn't she the stickler for the rules? She'll probably run off to Dumbledore before the night's out." 

"I assure you," Remus replied evenly, "Hermione is on Harry's side."

"Thank you, Remus," Hermione said icily, still glaring at Moody. "I don't think Sirius ever figured it out, by the way – there's nothing in here that could help us."

"It was a long-shot," Remus agreed. "He would have told Harry immediately if he had found out."

"Sirius would have told Harry what immediately?" Tonks asked, looking slightly frightened. "What was a long-shot?"

Remus winced, and he and Hermione shared a concerned look. "Why don't you sit down, Tonks?" he asked nervously, and immediately, Arthur, Bill, Fred and George settled on the floor, eyeing Remus and Hermione with trepidation. Following their lead, Kingsley shrugged and sat on the edge of Sirius's bed, and Moody stumped over to the desk chair.

"I don't need to sit down," Tonks replied, her voice rising in pitch. "I need to know what it is you called us here f–"

"Harry's parents are alive," Hermione said immediately.

A stunned silence followed and Remus spun to face Hermione, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "What happened to easing them in to it?"

"I got impatient," Hermione replied absently, turning back to Sirius's notebooks.

"They're _alive_!" Tonks shrieked, her hair quickly turning from powder-blue to green to red to purple and then neon blue. "_How_?"

"People can't come back to life," Bill muttered. "They just can't. How–?"

"They didn't," Remus murmured softly. "We think they never died."

"But – why would Dumbledore–?" Kingsley began, staring at Remus. "Why would he do this? What could be gained from Harry thinking he's an orphan?"

"We don't know," Hermione began, but Remus cut in quickly.

"Control," he said angrily. "With his parents gone, Harry was left at the Dursleys _by Dumbledore_, so every time Dumbledore either gets Harry or sends someone to get him, he's rescuing the boy. And Harry will look to Dumbledore and see someone to trust implicitly, to follow anywhere."

"We need to find them," Arthur said hurriedly. "We need to find them, and we need to get Harry out of that house."

"Gringotts might be able to help," Bill offered quickly. "They can usually track people down well."

"And I've found an amazing number of books on tracking charms," Hermione added. "We just need the right one…."

"Right now, Hermione, we need to get you back to the Burrow," Arthur tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Floo back to the Burrow, all right? Molly will have a conniption if you're not back in time for supper."

Hermione hesitated, turning to look at Remus, but he smiled in reassurance. "We'll get you tomorrow," he said calmly, "and tell Molly you're helping on a research project. Don't worry too much about Harry; he's lasted fifteen years, he'll make it a few more days."

Hermione sighed but nodded in acceptance before turning and walking from the room. The others waited in silence until they heard her call out, "The Burrow!" before speaking again.

"How do we tell Potter?" Moody asked, and for once, both his eyes were trained on the person he was addressing.

Remus closed his eyes. "I don't know."

* * *

Tonks took the next day off of work to help Remus and Hermione search for clues on how to find Harry's parents. Despite her irritation, after an hour of searching, Hermione agreed to go back to looking through Sirius's records, in search of anything _else_ Dumbledore may have done. Their efforts were largely futile, for after an entire day of searching, they had found nothing. Hermione had been sent back to the Burrow ten minutes before and Remus and Tonks were collapsed on a downstairs couch, staring absently at the walls. 

"Are you sure we should really be looking for them?"

Blinking, Remus sat up and stared at Tonks in confusion. Immediately, the now canary-yellow-haired witch bounced to her feet and began pacing the length of the room. "What?" Eyeing the witch warily, Remus got to his feet, wondering if he was going to have to spell her into silence. Once Tonks got started…

"I mean, we don't know what they're like now."

"Tonks, they're _Lily and James_ and they're alive," Remus said shortly. "That's all I need to know."

"But we don't know where they are. Or what they're like. What if they _did_ know you and Harry were alive and just don't want to be near you? What if they've gone crazy, being alone for so long? What if…"

"Tonks–"

"Or what if they're under the Imperius Curse, and the first second they're near Harry, they kill him?"

"Tonks–"

"Or what if they kill _us_?"

"Tonks, shut up."

"Or what if they've gotten so used to seclusion, they're afraid of us?"

"Tonks–"

"What if they're like Tom Hanks in that _Castaway_ movie, and they have a volleyball named Wilson and he's their best friend?"

Blinking in bemusement, Remus stared at her. "You've seen a Muggle movie?"

"My father _is_ Muggleborn," she reminded him, and Remus nodded. "They could have turned cannibalistic and killed each other. They could be eating house-elves for food. They could–"

Remus couldn't stand it anymore. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his forehead as Tonks rambled on. Finally, he grabbed her around the waist – Tonks let out a startled squeak – and he kissed her.

When he drew back, Tonks blinked up at him. "Oh, all right then," she said softly, and smirking slightly, Remus leaned down again –

"Hey, wait a minute!" she shouted, and he jumped back, hands over his ears, and winced. "You did that just to shut me up!"

"Er…" Remus muttered, doing his best to look innocent.

"Didn't you?" Tonks demanded, glaring at him.

"Well..." he gulped, "that wasn't… wasn't the only reason."

"Argh!"

Remus cringed – but what the hell, he _was_ a Marauder, wasn't he? "It worked quite nicely," he pointed out, smirking at her.

Tonks stared at him. Eyes flashing, she raised her wand, and Remus took a step back, hands in the air.

"Don't hurt me," he pleaded, and Tonks smiled evilly. With a wave of her wand, she conjured up a steel pan, brandishing it in his direction.

Remus did what any smart man would do.

He ran.

Tonks chased him up the stairs, shouting obscenities, and several times, she nearly clipped his ears with the pan. Ducking, Remus raced to his room, but when he went to slam the door, Tonks followed him in. Eyeing him angrily, she slammed his door shut and locked it with a spell, then tossed the pan aside.

Remus stared at her, and then smiled. "Oh," he said, watching her, "all right then."

* * *

It was nearing nine o'clock when a furious scream sounded throughout the house. 

"BOY!" Vernon Dursley thundered up the stairs and Charlie spun around, wand out, to face the door. Distantly, he wondered what was wrong with the man this time… and distantly, he hoped that Dursley would give him just _one_ reason to –

The door slammed open and Harry jumped, startled, as the book he'd been soundlessly levitating fell to the floor. Dursley stared as the book fell before shaking his head and proceeding with his tirade.

"Our next door neighbors saw a drunken bum leaning against our house _all afternoon_ yesterday!" Vernon shouted. "What do you have to say about that, boy? _He's one of_ _you, isn't he_?"

Charlie closed his eyes. _Damn you, Fletcher_, he thought angrily, _how could you have forgotten to disillusion yourself_?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said after a moment, staring at his uncle. "It's not my fault some drunk wandered off the streets into the yard–"

"You have _no right _to keep bringing strangers in here, boy!" Vernon screamed. "This is _my_ house, you follow _my rules_!" The man's face was steadily turning purple. "After all we've done for you, boy!" he spat. "We fed you, clothed you, provided for you over _our own son's needs_–"

And after fifteen years of abuse, Harry finally broke.

"That's right, _your house_!" he shouted back. "_Your _money, _your_ family! What's mine? _Nothing! _Do you think I _want_ to be here? What have you given me besides hatred and belittlement? A cupboard? Table scraps, like I'm some hated stray you keep just to look good for the neighbors? Dudley's leftover rags? _WHAT_!" he roared, and Dursley drew back, startled even as Charlie silently cheered.

"You _hated_ me!" Harry screamed. "Ever since I was a baby, you've hated me for something that _isn't my fault_! How _dare_ you accuse me of being ungrateful, you Nazi! _How dare you_!

"I'm _forced_ back here every summer by a man who claims I'll be safe here! _I'VE NEVER BEEN SAFE ANYWHERE! _And I'm supposed to call this home? _I HAVE NO HOME_!"

A sudden flash of light quelled Harry's rage, confusing him. Blinking, he and Vernon both looked up, startled. Cursing, Charlie ran to the window.

"Oh, hell," he muttered. "Hell, hell, _hell_!" Turning from the window, he ran to Vernon's side.

"Get your wife and kid and get out of here, Dursley," he ordered as he shoved Vernon out the door. "The wards are coming down."

"What?" the large man spat, paling. "Why?"

"Because you were so cruel and petty that you drove your nephew away," Charlie replied tersely, and he slammed the door in Vernon's face.

"Get your trunk out, Harry, _now_," he ordered.

Harry raced to comply, throwing the trunk open. Shaking, he threw himself under his bed and pulled up the loose floorboard, and Charlie quickly summoned everything stored under it, directing it into Harry's trunk. With a half-dozen more waves of his wand, Charlie summoned the remainder of Harry's possessions before throwing the window open.

"Come on, Harry, let's go!" he called as Harry ran to his desk and picked up Hedwig's cage, the owl hooting madly all the while. With a sad smile, Harry reached down and picked up a single photograph from the surface of his desk, and his parents smiled up at him from the photo.

"Come _on_!" Charlie repeated, and he grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him to the window. He shoved Harry through onto the floating platform and Kingsley, standing under the window, lowered it quickly, helping Harry off when it landed. He levitated the platform back up and Charlie jumped onto it, Harry's trunk in hand, and plummeted quickly to the ground.

"Move, move, _move_!" Kingsley shouted as he spelled the window shut, and overhead, a sonic booming sounded. "They're gonna crash!"

"What–?" Harry began, frightened, but Charlie pushed him along.

"No time, just go!"

The group raced to the street, Hedwig still hooting frantically, as the smell of smoke wafted through the street. Turning back, Harry gazed up at the house, Charlie holding his arm roughly in a tight grip.

The wards were sparkling over the house, brightly-colored white and red lights flying across and over the roof. Everywhere they touched the house, sparks sprung up, and flames licked at every window. Harry watched in horror, Hedwig stilling by his side, the flames reflecting in her frightened amber eyes. Anxiously, Hedwig tried to push her head through the cage to get to her friend, and, after a few minutes, succeeded in opening the latch with her foot, flying out to land on Harry's shoulder.

She butted her head against his and rubbed against his cheek, hooting softly as Harry stared blankly at the burning house.

"Get him out of here," Kingsley muttered roughly to Charlie, who nodded mutely. "I'll see if there are any survivors."

His hands shaking slightly, Charlie led Harry away, pulling him along faster as the boy tried to look back. As they walked, Hedwig turned on Harry's shoulder to gaze back at the burning house where her beloved friend had suffered so much.

Ruffling her feathers, Hedwig hooted once in satisfaction, and turned back to what mattered.

* * *

Hermione perched precariously on the arm of Harry's chair, speaking to him in low, soothing tones. She had been trying for half an hour to get through to him, to no avail. Across the room, Neville, Ginny and Luna watched sadly, and Ron paced across the floor, staring out the door as he walked. 

Kingsley had searched the house only to find the Dursleys already dead, killed by unknown means. He'd returned to Grimmauld Place to tell Harry, wincing on every third word. The black-haired boy had immediately collapsed. Shaking, he curled up in an armchair in the living room of Grimmauld Place and refused to move or speak to anyone at all.

Ron stopped by Neville's chair, running a hand nervously through his hair. "Dumbledore's gonna be here soon," he muttered, and Neville nodded shortly. "We need to keep him away from–"

Not a moment later, Dumbledore strode through the door, a livid Remus on his heels. "Don't you _dare_–" Remus began, glaring at the man, but Dumbledore ignored him, coming to a stop directly in front of Harry's chair. He looked down at Harry, who hesitantly raised his gaze to meet the headmaster's, and waved his wand, conjuring a chintz armchair that he immediately sat in. Harry's eyes slid back to the floor and he curled up into himself slightly, leaning his head against Hermione's arm.

A long, tense silence followed, in which Hermione, Remus, Ron and Neville all glared at Dumbledore, Luna stared off into space, and Ginny shifted nervously. As they sat there, not speaking, Arthur, Moody, Kingsley and Tonks came through the door, followed by Charlie leading the remainder of his family. Still staring steadily at Dumbledore, Remus sat on the arm of a chair near both Harry's and Dumbledore's, poised to spring at a moment's notice.

The door finally closed, and Dumbledore spoke. "I am very disappointed in you, Harry," he said softly.

A hiss emanated from Remus and the werewolf shot to his feet, spinning on his heel and striding out of the room, his robes swirling at his ankles. Glancing after Remus with a startled expression, Dumbledore paused before continuing, his composure regained once more.

"You had only to remain at your relatives for one more summer after this one, Harry, and I am at a loss as to why that task was beyond your cap–"

"No, you're not," Ginny spat, even as Hermione's hand twitched. His eyes latching on to the sight, Ron grinned. Oh, what he wouldn't give to see _that_…. "You know exactly why that was _beyond his capabilities_, or need I remind you that my brothers had to rescue him from a literal _jail cell_ the summer before my first year?"

"And yet," Dumbledore said swiftly, peering at Ginny over his half-moon glasses, "rather than be the… ahem, _bigger man_, Harry succumbed to their pettiness and shouted back. And now, my boy, your only relatives have died. I confess myself disappointed," he sighed.

Harry froze. Lifting his head from Hermione's arm, he gazed at Dumbledore with fiery eyes.

"So did Voldemort," he said, his face expressionless.

The room stilled. Blinking, all the color draining from his face, Dumbledore stared at Harry. "What–?"

"So did Voldemort," Harry repeated. "He confessed himself disappointed with his _minions_, too. After he was resurrected…. Or remade, whatever you want to call it."

The headmaster swallowed nervously. Trying to regain his ground, he began, "I fail to see what–"

But Remus had returned, and he strode back into the room, eyes flashing, a heavy tome held in one hand. With a wave of his wand, he conjured a small coffee table before Dumbledore and slammed the book down on it, open to a page midway through the tome. "_Read it_," he hissed, and Dumbledore gazed at the book in trepidation.

"I really don't see–"

Taking a step closer, Remus turned his wand on the headmaster. "_Read it_," he repeated, and Dumbledore picked up the book with shaking hands.

"'_Ara Sanguinis_, The Ritual of Protection by Blood, is a warding ritual dependent on a lack of animosity between the subjects of the ritual. The wards based on _Ara Sanguinis_ degrade by a minute amount at every instance of animosity within its bounds. Nothing will destroy the wards save either a crime committed by the protector against the Protected One, though the wards will not fully fall until the crime is confirmed aloud by the Protected One, or a spoken declaration by the Protected One that he can no longer find his home in the protected place. The validity of this statement is tested by the wards, which are marginally sentient,'" Dumbledore swallowed, "'before the wards will truly collapse. If the ritual of _Ara Sanguinis_ finds, in testing the protectors, that they have committed grievous crimes against the Protected One, it will eradicate their home, and, if possible, them. This phenomena is known as Blood's Judgment, and has only occurred two separate times in recorded history.'"

A stunned silence followed as Dumbledore's voice trailed off.

"This was _your _fault and _theirs_, not Harry's," Remus said, his eyes flashing. "Your wards, your inability to understand that _those people hated him _are what killed the Dursleys. Don't you _dare_ try to lay the blame for that on Harry's shoulders."

"I–" Dumbledore began, and tears sparkled in his eyes. "I didn't know…."

"And I don't care," Remus replied coldly. "That was _despicable_ of you, Albus. _Get out_."

Dumbledore stared.

"You _heard_ me, old man. As a trusted friend and mentor of the head of House Potter, I am ordering you to leave this house. Get out, _now_, and don't come back until you're invited back. You will hold all Order meetings at Hogwarts until further notice."

The headmaster drew back, startled, and gazed around the room. Finding no sympathetic faces, he turned to Harry, tears sparkling in his eyes. The teen was curled up in the armchair again, leaning heavily on Hermione, who looked murderous. "My boy," Dumbledore began, "I'm so–"

"LEAVE!" Remus bellowed, and Dumbledore fled.

The front door slammed behind the headmaster, and Harry flinched. The anger fading from his face, Remus walked over to Harry and Hermione. "Budge up," he said with a gentle smile, and Harry shifted. Sighing tiredly, Remus threw himself into the chair beside Harry, placing a hand on his back. "We know better," he said simply, and Harry tried to smile.

Ron, Neville, Luna and Ginny crossed the room to sit at the foot of the chair as Arthur ushered the others from the room, his arms around his weeping wife. A moment later, Remus followed, glancing back at Harry with tears sparkling in his eyes, and he smiled when Ron took his seat beside Harry.

* * *

Within the confines of Hogwarts, Dumbledore wandered wearily to his private quarters. He muttered the password in a choked voice before walking through the opening that appeared, pulling off his hat and throwing it to the floor. 

Without speaking, he turned into a small room by his sitting room, pushing the door open hesitantly. A wave of his wand ignited the torches along the walls and Dumbledore stopped in the center of the room.

He gazed steadily at the hundreds of photos lining the walls, his eyes coming to rest on one face, and two that were missing.

_Sirius, Lily and James_.

Surrounded by the dead and the betrayed, he fell to the floor and wept.

He would have to tell Harry.

But he didn't know how.

* * *

"We have to tell him," Tonks murmured in a low voice, and Remus nodded. 

"I just… he's already been through enough today–"

"He needs to know," Arthur pointed out. "And who knows? It might actually help him, to give him news like this after–"

"Right," Remus nodded again. "Okay. I–"

Tonks smiled, touching his arm gently in reassurance. "We'll go with you," she said softly, and, taking his hand, she led him into the parlor, where Harry and his friends still sat.

"Harry?" Arthur spoke up nervously. "We need to speak with you. No, no, stay," Arthur waved the others back into their seats as they moved to get up. "He'll just tell you later anyway, and you–" he stopped, swallowing, "you should be here for this."

Harry gazed at the Order members with an expression of dawning horror.

"What is it?" he asked shakily, and Remus winced. "_Who's died now? TELL ME!_"

* * *

"Lily, we've been over this a thousand times," James said wearily, brushing his hair back out of his face. "He's dead." 

"He's _not_!" Lily insisted, pacing back and forth across the nursery. "I can still _feel_ him! And I know you can, too," she added stubbornly.

James sighed, tears prickling at the back of his eyes. "Lils, it's just wishful–"

"It's _not_!" She swung around, glaring at him, but when she saw his face, her eyes softened, and she moved to kneel before him, holding his free hand gently in hers. "We knew the bonding ritual would have this effect," she said in a low, hurried voice. "We knew we'd be able to feel him when he was in a horrible emotional state. And we've searched for him through the bond hundreds of times and _felt him_ when we did. Why can't you believe me? It's stronger than ever _right now_!"

James looked away, his throat dry.

"In 1992," she continued, "the end of his first year, we felt him. He was in _danger_, James, you _know_ he was! We both woke up out of a deep sleep and you were crying! You were calling for him!"

"It was a dream," he insisted.

"It _wasn't_," Lily replied. "James, we had nothing left to live for, which is why I went along with Dumbledore when he told us to disappear. Voldemort was gone. There was nothing left to fight, and we had little left to fight _for_. He caught us at the worst possible moment, when we were still vulnerable. But what if Harry's still out there somewhere?"

A long silence followed. Finally, James said slowly, "When we woke up the night – the night he died," he hesitated, his breath shallow, "I didn't feel like anything was missing at all until Dumbledore said – the bond, it should have told us right away. But it didn't."

"I know," she whispered. "James, I've been trying to convince you of this for nearly fifteen years, and I've hurt you every time. I never meant to. But… the prophecy, James, Dumbledore hesitated. And the binding – we can _feel_ him, James, and that's _not_ wishful thinking, no matter what you say. And what about the scars?"

Slowly, she lifted his hand and traced the line left by the bonding ritual all those years ago. "If the bond had failed, this would have faded," she said softly, and James swallowed.

"Fine," he said slowly, "fine. I'll check. I'll go find Andromeda or Alice and Frank…"

"And a newspaper, perhaps?" Lily asked, her lips twisting in a smile. "It'd be nice to read the news after nine years."

"And a newspaper," he agreed, standing. "Come on, Lils."

She rose, following him from the nursery and down to the front door. James walked outside and she stepped through after him, feeling an odd mix of anticipation and dread. Silently, she watched as James walked toward the gate at the end of the driveway and stood before the gate nervously.

They hadn't gotten further than this since 1986, when they'd returned to England for the first time since the Halloween of 1981.

Smiling at him in encouragement, Lily moved to stand next to James, fingering her wand nervously. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, opening the gate and walking through it – and in the same instant, Lily raised her wand, casting dozens of charms within an interval of less than ten seconds…

There was a soft flash of light and James blinked, confused. Turning slowly, he glanced back at Lily.

"Come on, Lils!" he called, his face lighting up when he saw her. "Let's go for a walk!"

She stared at him. "What are you doing out here, James?" she asked, hoping he would –

"I told you, didn't I?" James replied, his brow furrowed. "Going for a walk. What are _you_ doing out here?"

Lily sighed, and carefully, she gestured to her husband to return. She'd have to start all over again –

– but no. The second James stepped back through the gate, his face twisted with rage and tears sprang to his eyes again.

"Dumbledore," he hissed, and Lily nodded.

Biting back a scream of frustration, she raised her wand, waving it in several complicated motions. After a moment, she nodded again. "It's definitely his work," she confirmed. "He must have done it in 1986, when he escorted us here. Remember, when we came back from Ireland? We went to Hogwarts – heavily hooded, of course, so as not to be bothered – and _he_ sent us here. He _brought_ us here. I never questioned it. It's odd," she frowned, "you've never remembered everything when you came back inside the gate before…."

"Why would he keep us here?" James demanded, and Lily's gaze rose slowly to meet his, her emerald eyes shining in an odd mix of fury and joy.

"Because Harry's alive," she replied, "and we were in Dumbledore's way."

* * *

_Next Chapter:  
Chapter 5 - The Cottage in the Woods_

Almost caught up, folks, and then this will settle in to a more normal update schedule... Chapter 5's the last one I need to rush up on to the site.   
As always, review if you have something to say.

Cheers,  
**LIZ **


	6. The Cottage in the Woods

**Wishful Thinking**

Chapter 5 – The Cottage in the Woods

The group gathered in the Black family library for the third day in a row. His face set, Harry sat at a large round table near the back of the room, piles of books scattered all around him, with Hermione to his right and Ron to his left. Luna sat next to Ron, Neville next to Luna, and Ginny next to Neville. The group had gone through hundreds of books on tracking, but found nothing of use. All of the spells required a non-magical possession of the subjects of the charm – which let out both the Marauder's Map and Harry's invisibility cloak, the only possessions of his parents that he had.

Harry dove into the research with a frenzied energy that none had ever seen him possess. He often had to be dragged out of the library for meals, and on one occasion, Remus had even been forced to perform a Full-Body Bind and carry the frozen boy down to the kitchen to get him to eat. The night before, it had taken Bill's threat of locking Harry out of the library to get the driven teen to go to bed.

It was nearing noontime and Tonks leaned back in her seat beside Remus, watching as Harry plowed through book after book with single-minded determination. The boy was hunched over a single text atop a pile of haphazardly strewn books, pages marked here and there. He scanned the text carefully before tossing the book aside and grabbing yet another, quickly hunching over it and beginning to pore through the pages. He had done this a dozen times already in the past hour, and Tonks wasn't quite sure what he was looking for.

Remus laid a hand on her shoulder as she sat there, watching the teen anxiously. Her face blank, Tonks turned to look at Remus who sighed and immediately shook his head. There was nothing they could do. But after a few moments, another began watching Harry in concern and Tonks nearly sighed aloud in relief. Hermione would take care of him.

"Harry," the bushy-haired witch began, and Harry glanced up from his book to raise a questioning eyebrow at his friend, "it's nearly lunchtime. Perhaps we should take a break?"

But Harry shook his head. "I can't," he said quietly. "I've almost found–"

"You need to eat, Harry," Hermione cut in gently. "You were here before any of us this morning. Did you even have breakfast?"

"This is a bit more important than–" Harry began angrily, and Tonks held her breath, waiting for the boy's legendary temper to erupt. _Don't get emotional_, she pleaded silently to the younger girl. _When you get emotional, he explodes. Don't do it…_

"I know that, Harry," Hermione said softly, "but you still need to keep up your strength." Behind her, Tonks let out at audible sigh of relief.

"What I _need_ is to have my parents back!" Harry shouted suddenly, flinging his chair back as he shot to his feet. "Everything else can wait!"

"Oh, bloody hell," Tonks muttered as tears sprang to Hermione's eyes. "Everybody out!" she ordered and grabbed Ginny by the arm, glaring furiously at the youngest Weasley when she opened her mouth. "Wake up, Ron," she added, shaking the slumping boy. Neville grabbed Ron's arm and pulled the other boy to his feet. Quickly, Tonks herded Ginny, Ron, Neville and Luna from the room, and Remus followed slowly, watching the two teens as they stared at each other. Harry looked furious, Hermione hurt and worried.

Silently, he wondered if Tonks would be willing to bet him on the outcome. He could use a bit more cash…

* * *

The moment the door shut behind Remus, Harry flung himself back into his seat, breathing hard as he glared at Hermione. The witch swallowed nervously but met his gaze, and she flinched when Harry snorted and turned away form her, picking up yet another book. 

"Put the book down, Harry," Hermione said softly. "Come get a bite to eat. Please. Even if you just bring it up here with you–"

"I'm busy," Harry said quietly. "When I find them, I'll–"

"You can't just stop eating until we find them!" Hermione gaped at him, shocked, and drew back when Harry glared at her.

"I'm busy," he said shortly. "If you're going to distract me, leave."

"No! You can't do this to yourself, Harry! When I'm working too much, you always drag me down to the Great Hall for a bite to eat or outside for a snowball fight – you don't let me run myself into the ground, and I won't let you!"

Silently, Hermione thanked the high Heavens that Harry hadn't exploded yet – it seemed that his hair-trigger temper from the year before had, thankfully, become slightly less volatile. But if the tightening in his jaw was any indication, Harry was about to get very, very angry with her.

_Good_, she thought decisively. It'd be the most emotion he'd shown in days.

Harry stared at her for several moments, opening his mouth and then closing it again before jumping to his feet, storming off a few steps and spinning to face her again. "You have _no_ right–"

"And you do?" Hermione demanded immediately. "Don't be a hypocrite, Harry. Why can't you just take a break for a while?"

"Because the second I do, I'll fall apart!" Harry snapped, and Hermione stared at him. "Think about it!" he continued angrily. "Think about how much has happened since June! We fought Death Eaters – all of you for the first time. I was attacked by Voldemort again, and Sirius _died_! And then I go back to Privet Drive and now_ they're_ dead! And then I find out that hey, guess what? I didn't even need to be there in the first place, because Dumbledore made me think I was an orphan and made Remus think all of his friends were either dead or traitors!"

"Harry–"

"I have _no one_, Hermione!" he shouted, and she jumped, tears springing to her eyes. "_No one_! Yeah, the Weasleys are great, but they have seven kids of their own! Sirius is dead! There is _no_ _one_ in the world that puts me first."

He finally stopped shouting, breathing heavily, and stared at her with wild eyes. Hermione had backed up a few steps, her hands pressed to her mouth. Harry gazed at her, confused, as she choked back a sob. "You're wrong, Harry," she whispered, blinking rapidly. "You're wrong."

Turning, she fled from the room and ran up to the room she had moved into three days earlier. She had left the Burrow to stay at Grimmauld Place with Harry, thinking he would like more than Remus and Tonks for company.

Apparently, she'd been wrong.

She flung her bedroom door open and ran into the room, immediately wrapping her arms around her legs as she sat on her bed. She blinked hard, trying not to cry, rocking on the bed. The door creaked, and she looked up, startled.

Tonks slipped into the room quietly, coming to sit beside Hermione on the bed. "Let it out," she murmured softly, and the bushy-haired witch burst into tears.

* * *

Three more days passed with no progress. Tonks had gone with Bill to Gringotts to ask the goblins for help, but nothing had come from their request. In a fit of desperation, Harry had even summoned Dobby to him and asked the house-elf to bring his parents to Grimmauld Place. The house-elf had returned five hours later, bawling, and thrown himself at Harry's feet, begging forgiveness for his failure. 

Though Harry had tried to comfort the house-elf, Dobby had sobbed over his feet for over half an hour, declaring that he was not fit to serve "the great Harry Potter, sir." When Hermione, watching them with a frown, had pointed out that Dobby worked for Hogwarts, not Harry, the house-elf had begun to sob even harder.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but by the end of the night, he was feeling very dizzy and Dobby had somehow been hired to take care of "the great Harry Potter," his properties and his family.

The following morning, Harry jerked awake when he heard movement in his room. Reaching for his wand, he slowly sat up, looking quickly around the room.

"Harry Potter sir?" a hesitant voice asked, and Harry jumped.

"Dobby!" he exclaimed, and he reached over to turn on his bedside lamp. "What are you doing?"

"Dobby is fixing Master Harry Potter's clothes," the house-elf boasted, and he moved aside to let Harry see the pile behind him. "Dobby cannot let Master Harry Potter wear rags that aren't even fit for a house-elf," the elf declared.

"Don't call me "master," Dobby," Harry said quietly, then stared, his jaw dropping, at the pile of clothes before him.

They'd certainly fit him much better than they had before, but that was their only high point. Piled at his bed were a collection of neon orange, yellow, lime green, pink and purple shirts – as well as some that were all five. His pants had not yet been touched, but every one of his socks had been transformed into mismatched pairs.

"Er…" Harry began, searching desperately for something nice to say. "They… they look…. Hermione!" he called. "Hermione!"

She must have already been awake, because his door opened two minutes later and Hermione ran in, stopping short as she saw Dobby standing nervously beside the pile of clothes.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured, grinning, and Harry shifted nervously on his bed.

"_Help me_," he hissed, and Dobby's face crumbled.

"Harry Potter is angry," Dobby muttered, his ears drooping. "Dobby goes now. Dobby displeases the great Harry Potter."

"No!" Cursing under his breath, Harry jumped from the bed – never more grateful that he still wore pajamas to bed – and knelt next to Dobby. "You don't, Dobby. You've done an excellent job and you've always helped me. It's just – it's just–"

Trailing off uncertainly, he turned to look at Hermione for help.

"Harry just doesn't like vivid colors like that, Dobby," Hermione said quietly. "How about some more – subtle colors? Dark blues and forest greens, things like that?"

"Dobby changes colors?" the house-elf asked, his ears perking up hopefully.

"Yes, Dobby," Hermione said patiently. "I'll help you, all right? I'm sure we can come up with some good colors between the two of us."

"Dobby never knew!" the house-elf shouted, and he began to weep. "Harry Potter is great and good, and his Wheezy is the same, but Dobby never knew that Harry Potter's Hermy was so kind, so selfless, so–"

"Why don't you move these clothes to the parlor?" Hermione asked, kindly. "I'll be there in just a moment."

"Dobby does as Hermy asks!" Dobby declared, and with a snap of his fingers, he had vanished, taking the pile of clothes with him.

"Well," Hermione said after a moment, "that was interesting."

"_Thank you_," Harry murmured, staring at the spot where Dobby had been. "I don't know what he would have done if you hadn't come in here."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You just would have had to keep him from crying, that's all."

"And we all know how easy _that_ is," Harry muttered, and Hermione smiled before turning to go.

"Wait," Harry said quickly, and Hermione stopped, puzzled. "Can I – can we talk?"

"Weren't we just?" Hermione asked, but she perched on the end of his bed regardless, and Harry moved to sit beside her.

"I wanted to apologize," he said quietly.

"For what?" Hermione asked, blinking, and Harry frowned.

"For making you cry," he replied.

Hermione smiled at him. "Harry, that was four days ago," she said gently. "I'm fine."

"I know that," he assured her, "but…" He shifted nervously, hands clasped in his lap. "It took me as long to figure out _why_ you were crying," he said, "and I gave it some serious thought. After our third year – when Remus never contacted me, I just assumed he didn't care. But a lot more people care about me than I'd realized. I never would have thought that Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, Moody and the Weasleys would defy Dumbledore for me. I wouldn't have thought that Dobby would leave Hogwarts for me," he smiled wryly, "though that should have been fairly obvious."

"What are you saying, Harry?" Hermione watched him carefully.

"I didn't mean to say what I did," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I take you for granted. I _don't_, Hermione. You've done more for me than anyone–"

"Harry," Hermione smiled, touching his arm. "It's all right. I know."

"Good," Harry sighed in relief, "because I really need you to."

She smiled at him again, her eyes oddly misty. "Now," she said, clearing her throat as she stood up, "I suggest you get dressed and get downstairs, before Ron arrives and eats all the omelets."

"Omelets?" Harry asked, perking up, and Hermione nodded.

"Charlie and Remus are making them – well," she paused, grinning, "Remus is making them; Charlie's just trying to sneak jalapeños into them while Remus's back is turned."

"Get out, then," Harry grinned back, "so I can get dressed and get something to eat before Charlie ruins my appetite."

"I have to go see if I can convince Dobby to take a break until after breakfast, at any rate," Hermione muttered, and she waved absently before turning and walking out of the room.

* * *

Remus and Charlie were gone from the kitchen when Harry arrived, but a plate sat at his usual place at the table. Smiling, Harry sat down next to Tonks and greeted her cheerfully, in a much better mood that morning than he'd been for nearly a week. 

Remus walked into the kitchen when he was finishing up his breakfast with Hermione on his heels, arguing with her in low, hurried tones. When the pair saw Harry and Tonks sitting at the table, watching them curiously, Hermione flushed and Remus cleared his throat nervously.

The Marauder pulled several rolls of parchment out of his robes and tossed them onto the table, scowling angrily.

"Dumbledore's been owling me every other day, Harry," the wizard said, tossing himself into a chair across from Tonks. "He wants to see you."

Harry blinked, staring at the man, and sat up straighter. "Do you think he knows where they are?" he asked, and Remus snorted.

"Do you think he'd _tell_ you if he did?" Lupin asked, glaring at the parchment rolls.

"It's likely," Hermione replied as she sat across from Harry. "He knows he's crossed the line one too many–"

A crash sounded, and the group turned to see Dobby standing at the sink, a pot dangling loosely from his hand, quivering. The house-elf stared at Hermione before moving his gaze to Harry.

"Dumblydore betrayed Harry Potter?" he asked quietly, and Harry flinched.

"It's not that simple, Dobby," he began helplessly, but Hermione frowned at him.

"Yes, Dobby," she agreed. "Dumbledore betrayed Harry."

The house-elf snapped his fingers, disappearing immediately, and the pot fell to the floor.

* * *

Snape sat across from Dumbledore, gazing at the man over the rim of his tea cup. He had joined the headmaster for morning tea, as he did three mornings a week, and had arrived to find the man sulking at his desk yet again. Something was bothering Dumbledore, and he wanted to know what it was. 

The only things that really bothered Albus Dumbledore these days were life-and-death situations.

"I have the feeling you're hiding something from me, Albus," he said finally, setting down his tea cup. "What is it?"

"Are you certain I'm the only one hiding things?" Dumbledore immediately countered, his gaze sharp as he looked up from the sugar bowl. "Peeves tells me that Arthur Weasley has been in and out of the dungeons daily for nearly two weeks now. What are you doing down there?"

"Nothing of consequence," Snape dismissed, waving his hand absently. "Weasley merely insisted that I teach him a bit of NEWT Potions. He seems quite convinced that his youngest son won't make the cut for my class."

"And you agreed to this?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and Snape smirked.

"It's a small price to pay to keep them from complaining to the Board of Governors," he scowled. "Augusta Longbottom was just placed on the board, you may recall, to replace Lucius. And with Longbottom's newfound friendship with the Weasleys, Granger, Lovegood and Potter, I had… _concerns_ that they might try to force me to accept the boy."

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore began, but Snape shook his head.

"I _will not_ lower my standards, Albus," he snarled. "I cannot afford to have such a demanding course bogged down by miscreants and dunderheads."

"Very well," the headmaster sighed, and he stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"What are you going to do about Lupin, Headmaster?" Snape asked quickly, and Dumbledore jerked his gaze up to Snape's, shocked.

"What?"

"The werewolf, Albus," Snape said impatiently. "The one who has been quite rude to you lately. The one who–"

"I know of whom you speak, Severus," Dumbledore said tiredly. "I've been trying to get in touch with him, but he has not replied to any of my missives."

"Then go _find_ him, Albus," Snape snarled, and Dumbledore shook his head.

"I fear I am no longer welcome at Grimmauld Place."

"Why the bloody hell not?" the Potions master ground out, his eyes flashing, and Dumbledore sighed.

"I've made an error," the elderly man replied tiredly, "a grievous error, and Remus has discovered it. I must prevent him from–"

"From what?" Snape asked immediately, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"You don't need to know, Severus."

A stunned silence followed his pronouncement.

"Both yourself and the Dark Lord are playing a high stakes game, Albus," Snape finally said smoothly as he steepled his fingers under his chin. "He is gambling with people's lives for his own benefit, and you for ours. But you would do well to remember, Headmaster," Snape continued, and here he shifted, eyes flashing as he leaned forward, "in a world such as this, the only true division between yourself and the Dark Lord was that once, you would ask rather than order. Has that changed?"

"I–"

"Tell me, Dumbledore," Snape insisted, gazing at the headmaster, "what exactly is this _grievous error_?"

The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock Dumbledore had collected the week before. Snape stared at the old man, willing Dumbledore to –

"The Potters never died," Dumbledore whispered, his face ashen, and Snape felt all of his strength leave him. "They are in–"

"What?" Snape asked. Paling, he grabbed the arm of his chair and clenched his fingers around it. "All this time, you let me think that–"

"I had to," Dumbledore replied, though the old man looked violently ill.

"Why? What could justify that? What could possibly–" Snape gasped, shaking.

"Severus, I–"

"_YOU MADE ME THINK THAT I HAD KILLED THEM!_"

"Severus, I _had_ to – the prophecy–"

"Not that _bloody_ prophecy again!" Snape screamed. Turning on his heel, he swept out of the office, his robed billowing behind him. He slammed the office door and strode down the steps, never seeing the tears that streamed down Dumbledore's face as the door shut.

Fuming, the greasy-haired man walked down several flights of stairs, his mind far away. All these years, he'd thought he'd killed the Potters – thought he'd made their son an orphan –

"You shall help Harry Potter!" a squeaky voice declared, and Snape spun around, startled. "You shall come with Dobby!"

"What are you on about, you crazed elf?" Snape demanded angrily, glaring at the house-elf who was staring up at him from under a teetering pile of hats.

"You shall help Harry Potter!" the elf declared again, and grabbing Snape's arm, he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

* * *

They reappeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Snape immediately falling to his knees. The prideful man wrapped his arms around his torso, trying desperately not to regurgitate the crumpets Dumbledore had given him. When his stomach had settled, he looked up to see the crazy house-elf smiling in satisfaction as four people stared at him. 

"Dumblydore's Snapey shall help Harry Potter," Dobby said proudly. "Dobby makes certain, Harry Potter sir."

"Er…. Thanks, Dobby," Harry said nervously, eyeing Snape, and Dobby beamed. "But how can Snape help–"

The Potions master groaned. "Keep that thing on a leash, Potter," he muttered angrily as he got to his feet. "Famous Harry Potter can't even control a house-elf…"

"You shall not talk about Harry Potter that way!" Dobby shouted, rounding on the professor. "Harry Potter is noble and brave and kind and–"

"Yes, yes, all right," Snape said impatiently. "Now what do you want from me, you deranged creature?"

"You is talking to Dumblydore," Dobby said, smirking happily. "He is telling you things. Dobby saw."

"You broke into the headmaster's office?" Hermione gasped, gaping at the house-elf.

"Well done, Dobby," Remus murmured, smiling at the elf, and Dobby's smile grew wider yet again.

"You is telling Harry Potter sir what Dumblydore said," Dobby ordered, shaking a finger at the man. "You is telling Harry Potter sir _right now_, you is…."

"I "_isn't"__telling Harry Potter sir_ a thing–" Snape began scathingly, but Dobby cut him off.

"Snapey is very mad, he is," Dobby whispered, gesturing to Harry to bend over so he could whisper – quite loudly – in his ear. "Snapey swearing, he was. Snapey yelled at Dumblydore, he did, Dobby saw…"

"Is Snapey?" Remus asked, grinning. "Well, Dobby, why don't you just have Snapey tell us what he knows."

Snape scowled thunderously at Remus, who smirked back at him.

"Snapey is telling," Dobby waggled his finger at the man, "Snapey is telling right now, or Dobby is getting angry, he is..."

"Very _well_!" the Potions master straightened his robes, huffing angrily, before turning to Harry. Grudgingly, he muttered, "The Headmaster knows where your parents are, Potter."

Harry dropped his goblet on the table, pumpkin juice spilling everywhere. "What?" he breathed. "Where? How?"

"I didn't ask, Potter, I wasn't in the mood to stick around!" Snape shouted back. "Now, if you'll excuse me–"

"Why were you angry?" Harry asked his brow furrowed. "You hated my parents, why would you–"

He broke off, his face darkening, and glared at Snape. "_You_."

The Potions master eyed him nervously.

"_You_ told Voldemort the prophecy," Harry continued, his hands shaking.

"What prophecy?" Hermione asked, gazing at him, and Snape swallowed before smirking.

"You didn't tell her, Potter?" he asked delightedly. "Trouble in paradise, is there?"

"_YOU_!"

"Snapey is going now!" Dobby squeaked, and he snapped his fingers, the professor vanishing before their eyes.

"Harry, what prophecy?" Hermione asked, staring at him, but Harry shook his head.

"Later," he said shortly. "It doesn't matter now. Dumbledore knows where they are, Hermione."

"I heard," the witch swallowed. "Dobby, would you go get Neville, Ginny, Ron and Luna, please?"

The house-elf nodded, still glaring at the spot where Snape had stood moments earlier, and vanished.

"Remus, I suppose you should call the others," she swallowed nervously, "so we can – can _confront_ Dumbledore…"

Remus nodded and pulled his amulet out from around his neck, immediately pressing in the stone. A moment later, Tonks hissed as she felt the amulet burn, and Charlie and Bill came clambering down the stairs.

Dobby reappeared a moment later, and Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Fred, George and Arthur walked into the room, dusting soot off of their clothes. Less than thirty seconds later, Moody and Kingsley Apparated into the room.

"Right," Remus murmured. "We're all here."

"We've had a lead," Remus announced. "It turns out–"

"Dumbledore knows where Harry's parents are," Hermione cut in quickly, and Remus sighed, rubbing his face tiredly as the others stared at her.

"_Why_ must you do that?" he asked exasperatedly.

"We're _wasting time_!" Hermione cried. "Snape _obviously_ caught Dumbledore at a weak moment, and the longer we delay–"

"Agreed," Moody said gruffly. "Let's get over there before Albus regains his sanity."

"Don't you mean before he loses it again?" Tonks scowled, and Kingsley smiled slightly.

"Are we all going?" he asked. "Shouldn't we–"

"There isn't much point any longer," Remus said quietly. "We were going to have to reveal ourselves at any rate, we might as well show the man how much support Harry really has."

"Can we _go_ now?" Hermione asked impatiently. "Come on, Harry," she insisted, grabbing his arm and dragging him forward, and she watched as Kingsley made a plate into a Portkey.

"On three, then," the Auror said quietly, "One… two… _three_."

The entire group vanished, Dobby following right behind them.

* * *

They reappeared just outside the gargoyles guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Quickly, the Weasley twins ran through a list of sweets and the gargoyles moved aside, allowing them passage into the office. Remus went up the staircase first, with Arthur at his side and Tonks right behind them, followed by Moody, Kingsley, the Weasleys, Luna and Neville. Harry and Hermione came last, with Dobby at their heels. 

The procession was rather somber, and made Harry feel even more nervous than he had already been. Glancing over at him, Hermione smiled reassuringly and squeezed his hand.

"Remus!" Dumbledore exclaimed happily from behind his desk. "To what do I owe the–"

His voice died as he stared, brow furrowed, at the group of people filing into his office. Seeing the direction of Dumbledore's gaze, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand again, squeezing it harder, and Ron moved to stand behind them, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Quickly, Neville moved to Harry's other side, with Ginny joining him and Luna patting Hermione's arm in comfort.

But it was Dobby who made the most blatant show of support. The house-elf placed himself in front of Harry, arms crossed as he glared at the headmaster, who was more than a bit disconcerted from the fury in the house-elf's eyes.

"Where are they, Dumbledore?" Remus asked, and the elderly man's gaze slid across the room, to where Arthur Weasley and four of his eldest sons had gathered. Moody stood silently by the door, Kingsley to the other side, and Tonks moved to stand next to Remus.

"What are you talking–?" Dumbledore began, and Remus cut him off.

"I'm not in the mood for your little games, Dumbledore," Remus replies, eyes flashing. "Where _are_ they?"

"How?" Dumbledore asked helplessly, sinking into his seat behind the desk. "How do you–?"

"Really, Dumbledore, did you think we'd never find out?" Remus asked scathingly. "Enough stalling. Where _are_ they?"

"I don't–"

Remus raised his hand, pounding it on the edge of Dumbledore's large, ornate desk and the wood creaked ominously. "_Where_?"

Dumbledore flinched. He turned his head to look at Harry, who was staring at him with hope, fury and betrayal glittering in his eyes. "The Potters may be found at 1 Griffin Lane, Godric's Hollow," he said softly, and Remus turned on his heel.

"Come on, Harry," he muttered, taking Harry's arm, and Hermione hurried along beside them. The others filed out after them, Moody eyeing Dumbledore with no small amount of disgust.

The door shut behind them, and Dumbledore dropped his head down onto his hands, tears falling once again. A hand touched his arm and he jumped, reaching for his wand, but sighed tiredly when he saw the face of Luna Lovegood watching him curiously.

"Yes, Miss Lovegood?" he asked, blinking away the tears.

The odd Ravenclaw smiled. "It's not too late, you know," she said quietly, and she patted his wrinkled old hand once before turning and walking away.

Dumbledore stared at the door long after it had closed.

* * *

"We still need to find them," Remus said anxiously. "Now that we know the Secret, we can get in, but Godric's Hollow is likely still warded by so many spells–" 

"What if it's not?" Harry asked as he tossed a book aside. "What if they don't remember me, or they just don't want to leave?"

"Dumbledore wouldn't take the chance, Harry," Tonks pointed out immediately. "He couldn't risk them finding out that you're still alive. So…"

"He likely has the place good and layered," Bill put in. "Maybe a few charms to cause confusion, memory charms all over the exits to the estate. That way, even if they got out, they'd forget _why_."

"It's damn cunning of him," Charlie added, "and those wards must be strong, to have held them for fifteen years."

"Lily must know," Remus said, shaking his head. "It's likely that she hasn't stepped foot outside the gates since they got there, but she's been sending James to do it instead – that way one of them will still remember…"

Bill shuddered. "I just hope he isn't brain damaged, if that's the case. Repeated memory charms? _Not_ good."

"Lily would know how to fix it," Remus murmured, and Harry felt a sudden surge of pride and love. His mother _would_ know how to fix it – she was the smartest witch Hogwarts had seen in years, everyone told him that….

* * *

"Hold still, James," Lily murmured softly. "I need to check you for any lingering side effects." 

"I'm _fine_, Lily," James muttered, fending her off with both hands. "Don't tamper with my mind,"

"I'm _not _going to tamper with your mind!" Lily replied angrily, her emerald eyes flashing. "I'm _trying_ to make sure Dumbledore didn't do any damage!"

"He _didn't_!" James said angrily. "He _couldn't_, because then you'd notice even though you've been charmed too!"

"Ah….," Lily looked away quickly, and James stared at her. "Well… you see…"

"You've been sending me though that thing?" James asked incredulously. "Lily!"

"One of us had to remember!" she said quickly, tears sparkling in her eyes. "And you don't know enough about charms to–"

"All right, all right, I get it. But why didn't you tell me?"

"I did," Lily sniffled, "the first ten times…"

"The first _ten_ times?" James jumped to his feet. "How many times have you sent me to get my mind scrambled?"

Lily looked away again, mumbling something under her breath, and James frowned. "What?"

"Thirty," she whispered, looking down.

"_Thirty_?" James began pacing up and down the room, sending glares at her every few seconds, and Lily flinched. "Well, have you gotten anything out of it yet?"

"The wards seem to be wearing down a bit," she said slowly. "But it'd probably take at least thirty more tries to get through it, and it's just not safe to do it any more than once every six months."

"At least you're thinking like a Marauder," James muttered, scowling. "I don't look forward to trying to go through that thing again, mind you…"

"We'll have to figure out another way, that's all," Lily soothed quickly. "What if we–"

Frowning, she spun around, staring up at the ceiling. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear wha–?" James frowned. It sounded a bit like static in his head – like one of Lily's old Muggle radios when the stations weren't working…

_We just need to find a proper Point-Me spell_, the voice of an unfamiliar girl sounded. _If we can find that, maybe we could fly to Godric's Hollow. _

_Yes, but how would we find the house?_ A male voice replied, and Lily and James gasped.

"Remus?" James whispered.

_If we could catch Pettigrew,_ another male voice said darkly, _maybe he could lead us there…_

_I don't know, Harry, I doubt Dumbledore told Pettigrew where the Potters are…_

"Harry?" Lily breathed, gazing at the ceiling. "James, it's _Harry_!"

James quickly shook his head. "No, it's not, we're hearing things, Lils. It's just wishful –"

"It is _not_!" Lily cried. "It's the bond! It must be able to feel us trying to reach each other – it's trying to help!"

"Harry!" she began shouting. "Harry, can you hear me?"

"Lily, stop it!" James grabbed his wife by the arm and tried to swing her around, but she quickly shook him off.

"Harry? Harry, answer me!"

* * *

Harry jerked in his seat, grabbing the arm of Hermione's chair to pull himself upright. "What?" he muttered, staring at the tabletop, and Hermione gazed at him. 

"Harry, are you all right?"

"Mum?" Harry whispered. "Mum?"

* * *

"He can hear me!" Lily said excitedly, turning to smile at her husband. "He can _hear_ me, James!" 

"No," James breathed. "It can't – he can't–" Taking a deep breath, the black-haired man licked his lips nervously. "Harry?" he asked uncertainly.

* * *

"Dad?" Harry breathed. "Hermione, I can _hear_ them!" 

Hermione had already gotten unsteadily to her feet, but at this, she sank to her knees at his side. "Harry, are you certain?" she asked nervously, as Remus stared at them, thunderstruck.

"Yes! Mum, Dad, tell me something that only Remus would know," he said quickly, his eyes alighting with excitement.

* * *

"James, hurry, think of something!" 

"Ah…," the man scratched his head. "Oh! I know! Remus used to have this old stuffed wolf his mother had gotten for him – once I enchanted it to tap-dance on his bed to wake him up in the morning – let's see, I used to call his lycanthropy his "furry little problem" and Sirius went around telling everybody he owned a vicious were- rabbit…"

* * *

In Grimmauld Place, Harry looked up at Remus, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Your _furry little problem_?(1)" he repeated incredulously, and Remus blanched. 

"Oh lord," the aging werewolf muttered, sinking back into his chair. "It can't be–"

"Some bonding rituals," Bill muttered, "I read about this – they can enable long-distance communication, but I never read anything specific."

"Apparently," Ron said wryly, "telepathy counts as "long-distance communication"."

"Mum, Dad, where's Godric's Hollow? How do I find you?"

After a moment, Harry looked up, his eyes wide. "They said to Apparate to a town called Sancreed," he said nervously. "Do you know where that is?"

"Right by the Drift Reservoir, isn't it?" Remus asked. "Of course! I remember now!"

"They said yes," Harry replied quickly. "They're just about a mile from the reservoir."

"Right," Remus agreed. "Harry, take my arm. Tonks, take Hermione, Arthur, take Ron, Bill take Ginny, Charlie, take Luna and Kingsley, take Neville, would you?"

"Can we follow you like that?" Arthur asked, frowning. "I wasn't aware–"

"No, you're right," Remus sighed. He led the group to a viewing room and quickly, placed an image of a secluded wood near Sancreed's town center in the pensieve. When the others emerged, he grabbed Harry's arm and Apparated away.

* * *

The others reappeared only a moment after Harry's feet settled on the ground. He looked around curiously, peering out of the woods. All he could see was a tiny little town – a village, really – with a wide, slightly crowded main street running through the center. 

"Right," Remus said nervously, "stay in the woods. We'll have to walk."

He led the large group along a slightly worn path in the woods, making his way steadily through the foliage. Harry and Hermione followed not a step behind, Ron, Luna, Ginny and Neville following directly behind them. The adults of the group hung back, wands at the ready, and studied their surroundings carefully.

Twenty minutes of walking got them to Godric's Hollow, and they skirted around the small village carefully, making certain to remain in the woods. Finally, they reached an area where they could see a small cottage through the trees, and Remus stopped and stared.

"I didn't think," he began, swallowing convulsively, "I would ever see this place again."

Nervously, he stepped forward, crossing onto the property with his eyes closed. After a moment, he opened his eyes and waved to the others. "You can come through," he said quickly. "Dumbledore must have taken down the–"

Harry ran by him, racing across the grounds until he came to the walkway to the cottage. There he froze, staring up at the house anxiously.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, and she ran after him, grabbing his arm to steady herself when she nearly tripped and fell.

"This is it, Hermione," he whispered. "This is where Voldemort–"

"Harry, forget about Voldemort," Hermione said softly. "This is where _your parents_ are."

The door opened a creak as Remus joined them, the others stopping a ways back. Harry watched the door nervously, his breath caught, and a moment later, it opened all the way.

A woman stood there, with long red hair and emerald eyes not unlike Harry's own. She was about Hermione's height and slim, wearing a pair of emerald green robes. Behind her was a man who looked just like Harry, with black, untidy hair, wire-rimmed glasses and hazel eyes. The couple froze on the front steps, staring at Harry and Remus.

"Harry?" Lily breathed after a moment, and Harry nodded, swallowing and grabbing Hermione's hand.

"Harry!" Lily shouted. "James, it's Harry!" Grabbing her husband's arm, she dragged him down the steps and, weeping, pulled Harry into her embrace. The black-haired boy stiffened momentarily before closing his eyes and clinging to his mother. James looked as if he wanted to join them, but when he looked at Remus, his jaw dropped.

"Remus," James murmured, "what–?"

"Later, my friend," Remus replied. "Get reacquainted with your son for now."

James gazed at him, his eyes misty, and grabbed the other Marauder in a hug before turning and embracing his wife and son.

No one spoke. Glancing to the right, Hermione saw Tonks step forward and slip her hand into Remus's, leaning her head against his arm. Silently, she turned back to see Harry still standing with his parents, his eyes sparkling happily, crying without the slightest bit of shame.

She stepped back and went over to the rest of their friends, ignoring the concerned glances of Remus, Tonks, Arthur, Bill, Charlie and Kingsley.

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny whispered, and she hugged her friend.

"He doesn't need us anymore," Hermione whispered, blinking back tears.

"Yes he does," Neville said quietly. "He always will. You have nothing to worry about, Hermione. Look at him. He's so _happy_. I've never seen him like this."

"Now all we have to worry about is that bloody prophecy," Ron scowled. "I'm just glad you managed to drag it out of him, Hermione. I have a funny feeling he was never going to tell us."

She nodded absently, straightening up when she saw Harry grab his mother's hand and drag her and James toward them.

"Mum, Dad, I want you to meet my friends," Harry was saying excitedly. "This is Luna, she's a fifth year Ravenclaw… and this is Ron, he's been one of my best friends since first year. He's a Gryffindor like me. This is Neville, also a Gryffindor in my year, and Ginny, a fifth year Gryffindor and Ron's sister. And this is Hermione Granger," Harry smiled at Hermione, "sixth-year Gryffindor and the brightest witch at Hogwarts."

Hermione flushed. "Don't exaggerate," she said quietly as the Potters greeted the other students.

"I didn't," Harry smiled.

"A pleasure to meet you, Hermione," Lily smiled, hugging the girl, and James smiled at her.

"We should go," Remus cut in. "If anyone sees us–"

"Where's Sirius?" James asked suddenly, looking around, and Harry flinched.

"We should go," Remus repeated, and he took Lily's arm, pulling her back. "Fred, George, can you get Harry and Hermione back to Grimmauld Place, please?"

"Certainly," the twins replied with mock bows. Fred taking Hermione's arm and George taking Harry's, they vanished with a sharp crack.

"Grimmauld Place?" James spun around, staring at Remus. "Isn't that where his house was? Is he waiting for us there?"

Remus shook his head. "Tonks, take Lily, will you?"

Nodding, Tonks gestured to Lily, who, looking slightly frightened, took the metamorph's arm. "Remus, what happened?"

"Not here, Lily," he said tiredly. "Moody, would you take James?" Waiting silently, he watched the ex-Auror nod and move forward, and Tonks and Moody vanished with a crack, taking Lily and James with them. A moment later, the others followed.

Remus paused, waiting silently, and a moment later, Bill and Charlie reappeared.

"What do you need us to do?" Charlie asked as Fred and George appeared behind them.

"Lock it down," he replied. "We need to be able to bring them back to get their things," he replied, "without anyone getting in here to steal them or torch the place."

The four Weasleys nodded and immediately set to work, Bill directing his brothers on what wards to use and where to place them. As they worked, Remus gazed into the trees, where he had seen movement not two minutes before.

Albus Dumbledore met Remus's gaze without flinching, his eyes heavy and sad. Without saying a word, the elderly headmaster spun on his heel and disappeared.

(1) from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

_

* * *

Next chapter:  
Chapter 6 - And the Mighty Fall...  
_  
A/N: Many people have asked me why I had the Potters found so quickly - some even criticized me, telling me the story was going to be far too short. They misunderstood. _ Wishful Thinking _is _not _about Harry's search for his parents, about Dumbeldore's betrayal or anything of the sort. Those are simply parts of the whole. This story is about Harry's journey from what he is now to what he has to become, and the people who transform him and are transformed along the way. We're just getting started here, folks, so hold on tight, if you will. I will not say this again, so I ask that you take note of this rare author's note.

You're all caught up now. Chapter 6 will likely be posted in about a week (maybe the end of this weekend).

Review if you have something to say.

Cheers,**  
LIZ **


	7. And the Mighty Fall

Wishful Thinking

Chapter 6 – …And the Mighty Fall

They landed with a soft thud in the middle of the parlor of Grimmauld Place, and Harry immediately tore his arm away from George's grasp before running to his mother's side. The woman had fallen to her knees, gasping slightly with her hands pressed to her head, the moment her feet had touched the ground. Beside her, Tonks watched with concern as James swayed on his feet.

"Been a while since we've Apparated," James choked, and he pulled his arm from Moody's grasp, moving to join Harry at his wife's side.

"Mum?" Harry asked nervously as the red-headed woman dropped her head between her knees. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, dear," Lily wheezed, tears sparking at her eyes, "I'm just a bit dizz – whoa," she mumbled, and grabbed at James's hand. "Where are we? What's–?"

"Mum?" Harry asked, his voice shaking. "Mum, what's wrong?"

"Where am I?" the red-headed witch asked again, and she raised her head, staring at Harry. "James?" she asked shakily, and Harry stared at her, bewildered. "James, what–?"

"Mum, it's me!" Harry choked out, even as his father moved into Lily's line of view.

"No," Lily muttered, and Hermione gasped. "No, it's not. It can't be. He's dead – stop taunting me… _STOP TAUNTING ME_!"

"Harry!" Hermione breathed, and she grabbed Harry's arm, "she doesn't remember!"

"_LEAVE ME BE_!" Lily screamed, and she shot to her feet, swaying slightly. "_JAMES, MAKE IT STOP!_"

"Good Lord!" Arthur gasped, staring at Lily. "James, calm her down!"

"A mild Dreamless Sleep potion, I think," Tonks put in, wringing her hands. "Oh, dear…"

"Were the wards down?" Ron asked, frowning at Lily as she continued to shriek.

"They must have been," Arthur replied. "We got through."

"No," James said quietly as he grabbed his wife's arm. "There are Confounding hexes and memory charms in the wards. Quick, get some Dreamless Sleep…"

Tonks ran from the room and returned a moment later to see Harry staring at his mother, eyes wide with shock as she trembled in her husband's arms. Quickly, she passed the potion to James, and he carefully convinced Lily to drink it. When she had fallen asleep, James picked his wife up and set her gently on a nearby couch.

"She should only sleep for an hour or so," Tonks murmured, watching the older woman. "I found a very small dose."

"Good," Arthur replied, "she'll need to be awake when Remus returns, at any rate. Now, James, explain this to me. If there are all those hexes around the property, why do you remember everything?"

"I'm not certain," James said slowly, and he glanced at Harry, whose arm was still held fast in Hermione's grip. As he watched, Hermione steered his son to the couch opposite Lily before sitting next to him, Ron sitting quickly on Harry's other side and the remaining students gathering at their feet. "I do know that Lily's been sending me through the wards at least once every six months since we arrived back at Godric's Hollow in 1986 – she said I've been through them thirty times. Each time, she's been trying to break through the wards. Apparently, they can only be compromised when they're being crossed, so she's had to wait and cast all her detection charms and try to take it down while I'm leaving the property. I don't remember any of the times I've crossed the wards except–" Here he stopped, swallowing nervously. "About a week ago, she sent me through again. When I stepped back onto the property, I remembered why I'd been trying to leave. I'd never remembered that before. Maybe – I don't know – maybe overexposure to the charms and hexes is making them less effective."

"That's possible, I think," Arthur mused. "We'd have to ask Bill."

"Where have you been all these years?" Neville cut in, watching James carefully. "Were you at Godric's Hollow for all fifteen years?"

James shook his head. "We went to Ireland at first," he replied, "and spent five years there. I ran a bar while we were there – it's called the Golden Stag," he added, smirking slightly, and Harry smiled half-heartedly. "When we came back in July of 1986, Dumbledore sent us straight to Godric's Hollow and told us we should stay there until we had healed fully. Then, of course, the first time I tried to leave, planning to seek out Andromeda Tonks, I lost my memory and Lily had to drag me back inside the wards. She's been trying to break through them by sending me through ever since."

"How did you get food?" Ron asked, and Ginny, Neville and Hermione rolled their eyes at the red-headed boy.

"I don't know," James replied honestly. "The ward never made me forget we needed food. It was just when I went through looking for people other than Dumbledore–"

"How do you know all that?" Moody grunted, eyeing James suspiciously, and the younger man shrugged.

"Lily filled me in," he said quietly before sitting beside his wife, taking her hand. "After we told you how to find us, we had nothing to do but sit around and wait. She told me about every time she sent me through."

"Wake her up," a voice ordered roughly, and the group spun to see Remus striding through the doorway. "We have to talk."

"Are my sons–?" Arthur began nervously, and Remus smiled tiredly at him.

"They're fine, Arthur; they'll be along in a bit."

The red-headed man sighed in relief, but Remus had already turned away. The Marauder stood silently as he watched his best friend shake Lily's arm gently to awaken her.

Lily Potter sat up slowly, eyeing the entire room with trepidation. Across from her, Harry watched as his mother sat up, looking both hopeful and fearful. Hermione squeezed his hand quickly before Lily began to speak.

"James?" she asked questioningly. "Remus? Harry?" The woman's expression cleared quickly, going from confusion to fear and horror. "Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry!" the woman cried. "We never meant – we thought–"

"It's all right, Lily," Remus spoke up quickly. "Harry knows you would never abandon him. Please sit down," he added when Lily moved to stand, "we need to talk."

Slowly, Lily lowered herself back onto the couch, eyeing Remus nervously.

"Where's Sirius?" James asked again, and Hermione grabbed Harry's hand yet again as the black-haired boy flinched. "Remus, is he–?"

"I think you'd best sit down, James," Remus interrupted. "Moody, could you give us a bit of privacy?"

The Auror nodded and moved toward the door, with Luna and Ginny, both looking extremely uncomfortable, following a few steps behind. Ron slowly got to his feet, followed by Neville, but the two glanced at Harry questioningly, and the black-haired boy shook his head. The two boys sat back down immediately, watching Remus nervously as Tonks moved to his side.

Hermione had never once shifted from her seat, and had yet to release Harry's hand.

A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Clearing his throat nervously, Remus glanced over at Harry, who was staring steadily at the floor. "Well–" Remus began, but James cut him off.

"Remus, what is it?"

Harry flinched, drawing back, and lowered his head into his hands. Quickly, Hermione crouched beside him and began speaking in low tones.

"Remus," James persisted, as he and Lily eyed Harry nervously, "why is my son acting as if he's afraid of me?"

Another stifling silence followed as Remus looked pleadingly at Arthur and Tonks. Finally, Remus took a deep breath and said, "Sirius is dead, James. He died in June."

Lily gasped, her hand flying up to cover her face, but James barely even blinked. "I see," the other man replied, his voice cracking slightly. "And why is that making my son afraid of me?"

"Because he forgot the best part," Harry muttered bitterly, and Remus sighed.

"I see we still have some issues to work out–"

"It's not an _issue_, it's the _truth_!" Harry shouted, springing to his feet. "If I hadn't – hadn't–"

His gaze turned to his stricken parents' faces and Harry quickly quieted, swallowing convulsively before backing up and sitting back down.

"He blames _himself_?" James croaked, staring at his son, and Remus nodded.

"But _I'm_ the one who–!" Harry began, shaking. "I didn't – I thought – I saw–"

"Harry," Hermione began, "you know you were tricked. It wasn't your fault. It was Voldemort and Lestrange who killed him."

"I–" Harry began to shout–

"**_WHAT DID THAT MAN DO TO MY LITTLE BOY_?**"

With a startled yelp, Tonks tripped over her own feet and fell as Ron, Neville and Hermione whipped around to stare at the woman. Lily Potter stood in the center of the room, hands balled into fists, eyes flashing angrily as she glared at Remus. Harry pulled back slightly, yet again, and Hermione gripped his hand tightly. Beside his wife, James Potter took an uneasy step back even as Remus and Arthur watched her with alarm – and no small amount of fear.

"ANSWER ME, LUPIN!" Lily thundered angrily. "WHAT DID DUMBLEDORE DO?"

"I–" Remus began nervously, "well – that is to say – he has managed to instill a strong sense of responsibility in Harry. Too strong a sense," he whispered.

But Lily wasn't listening. Her attention had been averted to Hermione, and the red-headed woman's eyes fixed on the younger girl steadily. "How was he tricked?" she asked.

Hermione hesitated, glancing once at Harry before releasing his hand and turning to Lily. "Voldemort," she said slowly, "he – broke in to Harry's mind and showed him an image of Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries–"

"Did Dumbledore go to investigate?" James asked immediately, and Hermione shook her head.

"Dumbledore had been driven from the school by Umbridge," Ron explained, snarling out the woman's name. "He didn't even know–"

"So who went?" Lily interrupted.

Yet another tense silence followed her question.

"We did," Harry said finally, meeting his mother's gaze. "We went, and we found out that Sirius had never been there, that it was just a trick to lure us from the school, and Sirius and the Order came to save us, and he died."

"And no one thought to teach him _Occlumency_?" Lily demanded, looking back to Hermione again.

Silence.

"Snape – Snape did," Neville began timidly, "but it didn't work out very–"

Ron snorted, and Lily swung around to stare at him, a frightening intensity in her gaze. When Ron saw her watching him, he swallowed, paling quickly, and quietly asserted, "Snape's idea of teaching Harry Occlumency was to shout "Clear your mind!" and then mind-rape him in between Harry's sessions with… dear old Dolores and her quill."

"I see," Lily murmured, and she slowly turned her head. "Remus?" she asked softly.

"I didn't know," the werewolf muttered, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "Lord above, Lily, I didn't _know_…"

The red-headed woman's gaze shifted to the woman and man standing beside her old friend.

"We didn't know either, Lily," Arthur said wearily, rubbing a hand over his face, "though I _should have _known about Umbridge. It was clear in Harry's trial that–"

"Trial?" Lily repeated, her nostril's flaring, and Neville dropped his head into his hands.

"Bloody Weasleys," he muttered.

"Umbridge sent Dementors after Harry," Hermione explained when Lily turned to her once more. "He had to use the Patronus Charm to drive them away from himself and Dud–"

"_DUDLEY_?" the Potters repeated incredulously, and a vase shattered on the mantle. Immediately, Lily's anger abated, and she stared at the vase shame-facedly.

"_Reparo_," she incanted quickly, waving her wand at the vase, and the second it was repaired, she turned back to Remus. Beside her, James watched his best friend with tears in his eyes.

"Remus," James said pleadingly, "tell me he didn't. Please."

Remus flinched and closed his eyes.

"Tell me he didn't send my son to the Dursleys. Remus, please," James whispered.

On the couch behind them, Hermione flung herself into Harry's unsuspecting arms and clung to him, weeping. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to–"

Letting out a deep breath, Remus opened his eyes. "He said that if I interfered, he would see that I was sent to share Sirius' cell," the battered man said softly. "He said that if I interfered, I would be as much a traitor as Sirius – he said Harry could only ever be protected at Privet Drive – with his mother's blood. And he said," Remus swallowed, his eyes shining with unshed tears, "that it wouldn't be hard to convince Crouch that I was in league with Sirius all along… I'm a _dark creature_, after all…"

"That's despicable," Neville said quietly, and Remus nodded. Hermione let out a sob and Harry tightened his arms around the girl, still crying into his shoulder.

"Harry," Lily said softly, and the black-haired teen looked up. "Do you trust me?"

"Lils, what–?" James began, but Lily shook her head, watching Harry carefully, and after a moment's hesitation, Harry nodded.

"Will you let me see?" she asked, and Harry flinched and closed his eyes... Hermione held her breath–

"All right," he said slowly, and his eyes opened.

Lily nodded quickly. "It'll be easier if you sit on the floor," she said gently. "Close your eyes and meditate. When you feel centered, open them again. It'll be harder now, because emotions are running high – I assume you know how to–?"

Harry nodded jerkily. "Mr. Weasley taught me," he mumbled, and the Potters cast a questioning glance Arthur's way as Harry shifted to the floor.

"You'll be able to tag along through the bond," Lily told her husband softly. "Just take my hand."

The three settled on the floor, Harry slowly centering himself as his mother and father sat across from him, holding hands. Remus and Tonks moved to the couch that Lily had lain on before, sitting gingerly, and Arthur crossed the room and sat down next to Hermione, hugging the younger girl as her tears slowed. At their feet, Neville and Ron watched, transfixed, as the family gained its focus.

After five minutes had passed, Harry opened his eyes, and his mother reached out, James's hands laced with hers. She pressed her hands to Harry's temples, her husband's hands covering hers…

* * *

_PAIN RAGE SHAME HURT PAIN SHAME RAGE PAIN SHAME PAIN TIRED SHAME SHAME SHAME…_

_Shaken, Lily pulled back, tugging James along as she waited, and the whirlwind slowed. She moved forward slowly, James at her side, and tried to project a sense of comfort and safety as she delved into a memory. _

_Harry stood in a dark room, alone with Snape, the door sealed behind himself. "Clear your mind," the other man snarled, and the pain erupted in his head… _

"_No one will come for you, boy. They'll leave you here, to be a burden on us. All you are is a burden. Sooner or later, they'll realize that, and when they do, they won't be rid of you soon enough."_

"_If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup…" _

"_Oh Potter, you rotter, oh look what you've done! You're killing off students, you think it's good fun!"_

"_There is no good or evil, only power, and those too weak to seek it…"_

"_I am very disappointed in you, Harry…" _

_And the barriers shattered, and all of Harry's pain came crashing down on Lily and James with the force of a raging tsunami. _

Slowly, Lily extracted herself and her husband from their son's mind. She looked down at Harry, collapsed in front of her, and held back the tears. "Get him to bed," she said hollowly, looking up at the Weasley and Longbottom boys, "please."

When they had gone – the two boys helping Harry from the room, Hermione following half a step behind them, murmuring frantically under her breath – Lily turned to her husband, a look of grim anticipation on her face.

"I know," James said quietly. "Remus, you said there were others helping you?"

"Yes," Remus frowned. "Everyone who went to retrieve you from Godric's Hollow."

"Gather them," Lily said immediately. "We need to plan our next course of action."

Remus nodded, reaching for the amulet around his neck, and, as Arthur and Tonks pulled their amulets quickly away from their skin, pressed in the center stone.

* * *

They separated in the Entrance Hall, each with a particular destination and goal in mind. Smiling reassuringly at his wife – and hoping she wouldn't lose her temper – James Potter set off for the Headmaster's office. 

He hoped that he'd arrive at the Potions Master's office later that day to find the man dead, but James knew that was just wishful thinking.

But in the meantime, he knew, he could entertain himself just fine. And as he planned his entertainment – which he and Lily had discussed quite extensively with Remus and the worthwhile Order members the night before – he smiled.

Their strategy was all mapped out. All that remained was to manipulate the master.

As it was summertime, and there were no students to terrify, James made no effort to disguise his identity. He strode calmly down the halls of Hogwarts, his hood lowered and his face in clear view. As he walked, Sir Nicholas floated by and froze half-way through a wall, his head swiveling on his mostly-severed neck to stare after the Potter family head. Up ahead, Peeves was cackling madly as he unscrewed a crystal chandelier, and James chuckled as he recalled the memory of Harry's in which McGonagall had helped Peeves do the very same thing.

_McGonagall_. James's face hardened. That would be another stop…

He reached the stone gargoyle and, pulling the Marauder's Map out of his pocket – it had been quite the task to retrieve the map from Harry's friends without telling them why he wanted it – he calmly spoke the password.

"Redemption."

_We'll see, Albus_, he thought as he stepped onto the moving staircase. _We'll see._

_

* * *

_

Lily, for her part, was making quite the scene. The redheaded Potter woman walked calmly down a hallway speaking with the Bloody Baron, who had taken a liking to her – Lily never understood why – in her second year. As they talked, nearby portraits hung on their every word, and Lily relished in the fact. The Baron was thrilled to know that the Potters had not died, and even more enraged at Dumbledore for his deceit.

Lily was quite happily certain that life at Hogwarts was about to get a mite difficult for one Albus Dumbledore.

The Baron left her at the entrance to the dungeons, and Lily gazed down into the darkness for a moment, picturing her son walking down these same steps, his hand still scarred and bleeding from his earlier detentions, to have his mind ruthlessly attacked by a man who hated him, again and again and again…

Shaking her head, she strode down the stairs with slow, even steps, turning immediately into Snape's office. The greasy-haired man was bent over a steaming cauldron, his lank hair falling in his face, swearing profusely. Silently, Lily stood in the doorway, watching him with a raised eyebrow. Absently, she noted the placement of his wand – on a table three feet behind the man.

_Our dear Snivellus_, she thought venomously, listening as the man continued to swear, _has picked up quite the vocabulary. _

A moment later, she shook her head once more to clear it. _Time to interrupt–_

"Pitiful," she pronounced clearly, her upper lip curling in a sneer, and Snape's hand jerked, just as he was about to add a handful of crushed nettle wings. The wings fell to the floor and the Potions Master swore yet again, eyes flashing angrily as he looked up to find cause of his slip-up.

When he laid eyes on Lily Potter for the first times in nearly fifteen years, his blood ran cold.

"Evans," the man choked out, his skin turning a waxy grey, "I – I can explain–"

"Yes, please do," Lily said coolly, shutting the heavy wooden door with a loud _thud_. "Explain to me exactly why you told Voldemort the prophecy. Explain to me why you sent him after my son. But some other time, Severus," Lily continued, and Snape's look of fear changed to bafflement, then concern. "That's not what I'm here for."

She flicked her wrist expertly and her wand slid into her fingers from the rather expensive holster James had bought her nearly seventeen years before. Snape's eyes watched her movement like a frightened bird, and his gaze rose to her face as she raised her wand.

"Clear your mind," she ordered sharply, and understanding and horror dawned in Snape's eyes.

She attacked before he even grabbed his wand.

With ruthless deliberation, she sent every single memory of Harry's Occlumency training into Severus Snape's mind. All the pain, all the humiliation, all the fear and all the rage melded with Snape's own memories, and his shields collapsed.

* * *

"Where is Lily?" Dumbledore asked after a moment of silence, gazing steadily out of his window in an attempt to avoid James's accusing eyes. 

"Oh, she and Snivellus are having a little chat," James replied, waving a hand absently as he tipped his chair back on two legs. "She'll be along shortly, I'm certain…"

"Severus?" Dumbledore gasped, spinning around, and he quickly made for the door–

James moved with all the speed of a striking snake, his chair thumping to the ground as he raised his wand, hardened eyes leveled on Dumbledore. "Sit," he ordered, and the headmaster froze.

"James, I–" he began, but the Potter elder shook his head, gesturing with his wand toward Dumbledore's desk.

"Sit."

A moment's hesitation, only, and Dumbledore did as he was told. James was slightly disappointed – he'd hoped for an excuse to curse the old man.

_Wishful thinking…_, he reminded himself.

"We need to discuss the running of this school," James said evenly, even as Dumbledore's eyes lit up with concern and a touch of fear, "as well as your treatment of my son and my friends."

"James, I've only ever–"

"Headmaster, you've only ever allowed Harry to come to harm, if not outright caused it," James interrupted. "And as for my friends – Sirius had just barely escaped form one hellish prison before you had confined him within another, and you've done the same to my son his entire life. And Remus…"

James stood in a single, fluid movement and crossed the room, calmly opening the doors to Dumbledore's pensieve cabinet. Raising his wand, he pressed it to his temple and added the silver string of memory to the basin. A tap of his wand, and Remus was rotating above the pensieve as Dumbledore watched in horror, giving voice to his tearful confession.

"_He said that if I interfered, he would see that I was sent to share Sirius' cell. He said that if I interfered, I would be as much a traitor as Sirius – he said Harry could only ever be protected at Privet Drive – with his mother's blood. And he said that it wouldn't be hard to convince Crouch that I was in league with Sirius all along… I'm a _dark creature_, after all…"_

As the small image of Remus floated above the pensieve, repeating his words – James had yet to stop the memory – the Marauder gazed steadily at Dumbledore, who looked as if he desperately wished to sink into the floor.

"James," he croaked as tears began to spill down his beard, "I–"

"Save it," James said harshly, striding back to his seat as Remus continued to revolve over the pensieve. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You are invited to dinner at Grimmauld Place tomorrow evening and you can make your excuses then. For now, you are not going to speak," James continued, settling himself in the chair across from the desk, "you are going to listen."

Smiling slightly, James propped his feet up on the edge of Dumbledore's desk before picking up a small dish and holding it out to Dumbledore. "Lemon drop?" he offered, smirking at the older man.

Dumbledore reached out a weathered hand and plucked a candy from the dish, looking as if he'd already swallowed something far too sour for his tastes.

* * *

The Potters met up again just outside their destination, each surprised to see the other. 

"Great minds think alike," Lily murmured softly, grinning at the black-haired man. "How's the chess master?"

"Horribly shocked," James replied. "I don't think he even knows what hit him yet. I almost feel a bit guilty – the old codger really does think he was doing it for the "greater good"."

"He'll just have to learn, then," Lily said briskly. "And if not, then he won't go near Harry."

"At least we don't have to worry about him trying to send Harry to the Dursleys' again," James said tiredly. "I mean, I'm sorry you lost your sister–"

"Don't be," Lily muttered, her eyes flashing as some of Harry's memories floated through her mind.

"–but at least now we can give him an actual home."

"On that subject," Lily murmured, "we need to have a serious talk with Harry about where we should live."

"I think we should stay in Grimmauld Place," James frowned. "Even though he misses Sirius, and it'll hurt him at first, in the long run, he'll probably be happier being close to Sirius, or at least his things."

"We'll need to redecorate, then," Lily mused, "but we still need to talk to Harry about it. We don't want to start acting like Dumbledore, after all. Harry's been looking after himself for fifteen years. He needs support and guidance, not orders."

"Agreed," James said immediately, "and maybe we should include Remus and Tonks in that discussion, and the Granger girl, too."

"Bright one, isn't she?" Lily smiled slightly, and James smiled.

"Especially considering the stress of the situation," James added. "Myself, I'm more interesting in Tonks. Moony finally bagged a–"

All around them, the portraits – which had been hanging on to their every word – cringed, and several of the males in the portraits took a quick step back.

"Watch your step, Potter," Lily hissed, eyes flashing, and she turned on her heel and walked away.

"Right, right," James agreed, chasing after her. "So, Lils, how's Snivellus?"

Lily smirked, raising an eyebrow at James before turning the next corner.

"Slytherin looks good on you, Lils," James smiled, and grabbing her arm, he faked a leer…

"Watch it, Potter," Lily warned again, and she carefully tapped her wand against his thigh.

"Watching, watching!" the Marauder replied quickly, holding his hands up in the air. Lily watched him steadily for a moment before turning and knocking on the nearest door. A moment later, a stern voice called for them to enter, and Lily opened the door, James at her side.

"Hello, Professor," Lily smiled at the gaping deputy headmistress. "Rumors of our deaths have been greatly exaggerated."

* * *

"Right," Remus said tiredly, passing the final document to James for his signature. "You have now officially evicted Dumbledore and the Order from Grimmauld Place. Now what?" 

"Redecorating," James replied. "Lily's got that mad elf, Dobby, and his friend Winky helping her. And with Hermione, Ginny and Luna determined to help–"

"Shouldn't take long," Remus agreed.

"Has Arthur told his wife that we're alive yet?" James asked with a frown, and Remus immediately shook his head.

"He's not quite certain how to tell her that she can't pretend to be his mother anymore," Remus muttered. "Molly is a wonderful woman, but she's very overbearing, and if she had her way, Harry would be locked as far away as possible from the war, the prophecy be damned. She also tends to act like no one else cares about Harry – it used to drive Sirius to drink."

"How will she react to Lily and me, then?" James asked quickly, sitting up and frowning when his chair creaked.

"Oh, I'm certain she'll _try_ to be endlessly polite – but she'll also give you a list of his favorite foods, tell you how often he needs his laundry done and make it _perfectly_ clear that no one can care for Harry like she can," Remus replied, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

"Wonderful," James muttered, "just what we need. When is Dumbledore due?"

"In less than an hour," Remus replied, glancing at his watch. "We'd best go down and see how the demolition's going."

* * *

They were greeted by an absolute madhouse when they reached the first floor landing. Cursing under their breath, James and Remus wafted the soot and dust out of their eyes, coughing madly as they tried to see through the smoke. A few feet away, Lily stood, flanked by two house elves. 

"Ready?" she asked her miniature army. "On three…. One…. Two…"

"THREE!" Lily and the house-elves shouted together, and as Lily brought her wand swishing down, the two house-elves snapped their fingers –

Mrs. Black's shrieking portrait, and the entire wall which held it, exploded into a fine cloud of dust.

"Why didn't I ever think of that?" Remus asked mildly, staring at the empty space where a wall had once stood.

Lily grinned at him, shaking wood chips out of her hair. "You really need to learn to think outside the box, Remus. If you need to get a painting off the wall, just take the whole wall down. _Scourgify_!"

The wood shavings disappeared from the floor as James blinked, staring uneasily at his wife. "Lils, are you certain you should be blasting down walls?"

Lily frowned. "Why shouldn't I? Besides, I only blasted this one–"

A creak sounded overhead, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, who had been running down the stairs, froze half-way down.

"Mum?" Harry asked shakily, "you just got me back. Why are you trying to kill me?"

Lily glared at him. "Well, how was I to know that nothing else was holding the ceiling up in this area?"

Remus sighed tiredly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Dobby, Winky, if you will," he murmured, and the two house-elves nodded, snapping their fingers once more. A new, completely blank wall appeared in Mrs. Black's previous space, and the creaking stopped.

Harry, Ron and Hermione let out loud sighs of relief, and Ron let go of his friends' arms, relieved that he wouldn't have to throw them off the stairs to safety. Clambering down the stairs, the Trio stopped in the entrance hall to survey Dobby and Winky's work.

"Nicely done, you two," Ron grinned at them, and the house-elves beamed, Winky dropping into a neat curtsy. "I didn't fancy having to dive down a floor–"

Lily swung at him, and Ron ducked and ran, Harry and Hermione laughing happily as their friend bolted into the kitchen.

"Right," Ron said when Lily had followed him huffily into the kitchen, Harry, Hermione, James and Remus trailing behind, biting back their laughter. "Why are there nametags at every seat?"

"We need to give a good show," Remus replied, absently fingering a nametag. "When Dumbledore arrives, our alliances will be clear right away. Not to mention, we need to make it clear that Harry and his parents are already bonding and _will not_ be separated. Besides, it'll look _incredibly_ good if his parents are getting along with all of Harry's friends."

"Exactly," Lily agreed. "Harry, dear, you sit here," she said quickly, pointing to a seat at the center of the table. "Ron, on his left, Hermione on his right. Ginny, Neville and Luna will be across from you three, with your brothers, Ron, spread all over the place. Moody and Kingsley will be down at the end, near Dumbledore, Arthur will be next to Ron, and Dad, Remus, Tonks and I will be sitting next to Hermione and Luna. See?" Lily questioned, pushing her hair back from her eyes. "We're sending a message."

Harry, already seated at his place at the table, had not been able to stop smiling since Lily Potter had said the word "Dad".

"Harry?" the man in question asked, and Harry glanced up quickly. "Are you certain you'll be all right?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't want to see the man who'd blamed him for the Dursleys' deaths, yet –

"I have to be here, Dad," he said quietly. "If I'm not here, then it will be no better than–" His voice trailed off and he winced, rubbing absently at his forehead. As he did so, Hermione glanced at him sharply, but Harry shook his head.

"Not if we tell you all about it," Remus murmured, watching Harry with concern in his eyes. "There are certain crystals which can be spelled to record events, I'm certain there's one somewhere in this mausoleum."

"No," Harry said quietly. "I'll stay."

"All right then," his mother quickly agreed. "Winky, how is the roast doing?"

The house-elf looked up from her work, smiling brightly. "Winky is almost done, Mistress Lily," Winky replied. "Winky needs ten more minutes."

"Dobby?" Lily turned to the excited elf. "The rest?"

"Done, Mistress Lily!" Dobby said excitedly, and Lily breathed a sigh of relief – it had taken hours to convince him that all the epithets he so loved to use were unnecessary.

"Excellent," Lily smiled. "I just need to finish up my desert, then…"

"Y'know," Ron mumbled as he sat heavily at the table, "if you'd just told my Mum about this, she could have helped."

The three adults exchanged worried glances before Remus, newly designated spokesman, sat down across from Ron, watching him carefully as he spoke.

"Ron," Remus said slowly, "you know your mother can't be involved in this right now. She's too blinded by Dumbledore, and while I agree that knowing what the man's done to Harry would wake her up–" he hesitated, uncertain how to phrase his thoughts, "your mother has always been – possessive of Harry. She loves him deeply, and we'll always be grateful to her for taking Harry into your home, but Ron, she's not his mother. Your father doesn't think – and we agree with him – that she'll be able to let go and let _Lily and James_ be Harry's parents."

"She had this plan," Ron muttered. "Harry was supposed to marry Ginny and I was supposed to marry Hermione, so she could have "both of her surrogate children"," Ron mimicked his mother's voice, "in the family."

Absently, he paused, and then glanced at Hermione. "No offense," he said lightly, "but it would be like marrying Ginny."

Hermione's lips quirked. "None taken," she replied easily.

"Is he here yet?" an excited voice demanded, and the group spun around to see Fred and George stride into the room.

"Yes, yes, where's our new tester?" Fred asked, grinning wickedly as he rubbed his hands together.

"Quiet, boys," Arthur said wearily as he led his two eldest into the room. "Molly's gone for an evening out with Lavender Brown's mother," he told Remus, Lily and James. "She doesn't know we're here."

"Good," James said ruthlessly, and Lily frowned.

"You're going to have to tell her, Arthur," the red-headed witch murmured, and Arthur sighed.

"I know," he said quietly, "I just don't think Harry needs–" he broke off, glancing sharply at Harry to see the boy engaged in conversation "–to see her fighting over him as if he were some sort of possession. She would hurt him terribly without even realizing it."

"Hey!" a voice called out from the entryway, and the group turned to see Tonks, grinning, saunter into the room. "Where'd the troll leg go?"

"In the rubbish bin," Remus replied, his lips twitching. "Why? Did you make it inside without injury? Is the world due to end?"

"I'll deal with you later," Tonks warned him, pulling a carrot off of a plate and brandishing it at him. "Moody and Kingsley are on their way in," she added, smiling absently at Lily. "Should be an interesting night, eh?"

"Just as long as it isn't a bloody night," Hermione murmured, looking at Remus, James and Lily anxiously.

"That remains to be seen," James replied evenly, and Hermione winced.

"Now, now, James, don't get blood on the floors," Lily admonished with a slight smile, and her husband glared at her.

"Why not? You're just going to tear them up and redo them anyway!"

"An excellent point," Remus added, his eyes glinting. "However, killing Dumbledore – or charging him with a crime – though satisfying, would be quite the foolish move… for now, at least. He wanted to use Harry to his advantage – so we'll simply use him to ours."

"Well spoken, Lupin," Moody growled as he stumped into the room. "What do you think, eh, Shacklebolt?"

"It sounds like a sound plan to me," the bald black Auror smiled. "How much longer?"

"Twenty minutes," Lily said quietly, glancing at her watch, "but he's usually earl–"

The sound of the doorknocker reverberated through the house, and James smiled wolfishly.

"Harry, Lily, would you get the door please?" he asked, moving to stand at his place at the head of the table, and Harry and Lily nodded, Harry glancing nervously at Hermione on his way out of the room.

The pair crossed the entryway quickly, coming to a pause in front of the door. "Ready?" Lily asked, smiling at Harry, and the black-haired teen nodded, taking a deep breath.

He reached out and pulled the door open, stepping back to let the headmaster in.

* * *

_Next chapter:  
Chapter 7 - The Marauders' Playground_

Review if you have something to say.

Cheers,  
**LIZ **


	8. The Marauders' Playground

**Wishful Thinking**

Chapter 7 – The Marauders' Playground

"Headmaster!" James said jovially, a smile lighting up his face as the elderly man stepped into the room. "Welcome to our humble abode. You've been here before, haven't you?" he asked politely, and not waiting for Dumbledore to reply, he immediately gestured to the seat at the foot of the table. "Come in, come in, have a seat!"

Dumbledore, wrapped in midnight blue robes with sparkling golden and silver threads running through the fabric, moved carefully to the seat to which he was directed, watching James warily. "Good evening, James, Lily, Harry, Remus," he said politely, before nodding in greeting to the others. Lily and Harry moved back to their seats at the table silently, and it did not escape Dumbledore's notice that Harry was avoiding his eyes.

"Dumbledore," Remus replied evenly, smiling at Harry as the boy sat. The werewolf looked up at Dumbledore with expressionless eyes, and he gestured lightly to the chair by which Dumbledore stood, ignoring the man's uncertainty as he looked warily down the table. "Please. Have a seat."

And though he had only humored James, Remus had made it clear that he would not be argued with. So accepting the inevitable, Dumbledore sat.

"The roast is all finished," Lily said brightly, smiling at the occupants of the room. "Winky, would you help me, please?" she asked the house-elf kindly, and Winky beamed as she moved several of the platters to the table with a flick of her wrist. "Thank you, Winky," Lily smiled, and tears filled the house-elf's eyes. Seeing his friend about to break down in hysterics, Dobby moved in quickly, pulling Winky from the room.

"Help yourselves, everyone," Lily said quietly, gesturing at the food, before pulling back her chair beside Hermione and sitting down. Though Dumbledore gazed anxiously at the red-headed woman, he picked up his knife and fork, accepted the platter that Charlie passed his way, and hesitantly began to eat.

"This is wonderful, Lily," Dumbledore said eventually, as he reached for a second helping of the roast.

"Thank you," Lily smiled at him, pausing. "I had a great deal of time to perfect the recipe, so I'm quite delighted that it came out well."

As one, Ron and Neville sucked in a breath, and Dumbledore froze with his hand halfway to the platter, a stricken look on his face. When Lily just smiled and returned to her food, and James and Remus did not even look up, Dumbledore released a breath shakily and continued on with his meal.

But none of the students were eating – Ron and Neville were watching anxiously as Hermione tried to get Harry to eat something, speaking to the black-haired boy in low, anxious tones, and Ginny, Fred and George were looking nervously back and forth between Dumbledore and Lily, James, Remus and their father.

Whatever they had expected, this stilted, uncomfortable meal had not been it.

For her part, Hermione was impressed as she finally convinced Harry to take a slice of roast. She had not expected Lily and James to begin with psychological warfare, so to speak, though she might have expected it from Remus. But the look on Harry's face was getting more and more pained by the second, and as the mostly-quiet dinner progressed, she found herself wishing someone would say something – _anything_….

"I can't do this," Harry said roughly, slamming his knife down on the table, and Hermione whipped around to stare at him, Luna cutting off her one-way conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt, as Lily, James, Remus and all of the other adults set their utensils down. Across the table, Neville, Ginny and the twins smiled slightly, and Ron winced. This was _not_ going to be pretty.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Lily asked softly, and Hermione's eyes flashed – hadn't they had enough yet?

"I can't stand this… this uncomfortable silence," Harry said angrily. "I grew up with this! I'm tired of waiting."

"Very well," Remus said quietly. "After all, it is you who deserves an explanation the most." The werewolf Marauder turned to Dumbledore with an expectant air, smiling inside at the headmaster's deer-in-the-headlights look. "Well?"

Slowly, the headmaster set down his fork, his hands trembling slightly. Harry watched him with sad eyes, feeling a veil of exhaustion drop over him. In the rather large kitchen, the air felt uncomfortably heavy – though that might just be the mood in the room.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Dumbledore began softly. "I did what was best – I _tried_ to do what was best–"

"Start by explaining why you lied to us all," Lily replied, and Dumbledore looked a bit startled – the bright, cheery voice from before was gone, along with the smile.

"I can't – the prophecy," Dumbledore stuttered, and Lily shook her head.

"Explain yourself. What did you neglect to tell us about the prophecy, Headmaster?"

"It is very – complicated, Lily," Dumbledore replied hesitantly, but Lily didn't budge.

"Then _un_-complicate it, Albus," James demanded immediately, and Dumbledore sighed.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak of this around so many people," the headmaster began. "Sensitive information–"

"We all know the prophecy, Headmaster," Tonks spoke up flatly, and Dumbledore blinked at her in surprise.

"That – that's impossible," the headmaster stuttered. "The danger – it's far too dangerous for you all to–"

"It's done," Lily spoke up harshly. "And it will not be undone. Do you understand me?"

"I – yes," Dumbledore sighed tiredly, his face falling. "Yes, I understand."

"Good," Lily said calmly. "Now, explain."

"What would you do," Dumbledore asked mournfully, "if you were faced with a child whom you loved as your own grandson, yet you know that to allow this child a happy childhood would be to damn the entire world?"

"I don't know," Lily replied evenly. "This was your dilemma, then? Did you leave something out fifteen years ago, Albus?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Yes, I did."

"Tell us," James said quietly, his eyes never leaving Albus's face. "All of it."

A long silence followed as Harry stared at the headmaster blankly – he couldn't follow the man's logic at all. He loved Harry like a grandson and, because of that, chose to leave him to suffer for ten years? He couldn't reconcile the two ideas in his mind….

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And forged in the fires of adversity, he will be the One to vanquish the Dark Lord…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_"

Dumbledore's voice trailed off at the end of the prophecy and he closed his eyes tiredly.

"So you – you sent me there to fulfill the prophecy?" Harry asked shakily, staring at the elderly wizard, but before Dumbledore could reply, Remus cut in.

"Quite brilliant, actually," he said evenly. "That single line practically guarantees victory should Harry suffer in childhood… It was quite the gamble…"

A startled silence followed as nearly the entire table stared at Remus with absolute shock in their eyes. Something flashed across Tonks's face and she shot to her feet, moving to Remus's side with more grace than anyone had ever seen from her before, but too late –

"**_HOW COULD YOU?"_ **Remus screamed. "**_HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM, TO US? HOW COULD YOU GAMBLE FIVE LIVES FOR YOUR SO-CALLED GREATER GOOD? FOR A _**_PROPHECY?"_

"Remus," Tonks began slowly, grabbing his arm. "Remus, calm–"

"_I am calm_," he ground out angrily, a vein throbbing in his neck, and Tonks rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you're the picture of serenity," she replied dryly. "Sit _down_, Remus."

Grumbling angrily, Remus did just that, taking the time to glare at Dumbledore as he did so.

"I'm afraid I see no sense in your contradictory actions, Headmaster," James spoke up calmly. "You claim to love Harry, yet told Lily and I that he was dead, that Sirius was dead and that Remus was dead. You told _everyone_ that we were dead, and then you locked us away – for the express point of making Harry have a horrible childhood?"

"That was the means," Dumbledore murmured. "Not the purpose."

"And I suppose the ends justify the means?" Remus sneered, and Dumbledore straightened up, gazing at Remus sadly.

"No," he replied. "Never. But some things must be done, with or without justification of any sort."

"If this is how you treat people you love," Ginny said venomously, "I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies."

Dumbledore flinched. "I did what I thought was best–" He cut himself off, sighing heavily, before turning to look at Harry. "I never meant to hurt you. You have been kinder, stronger, _better_ than I could ever have imagined," he said hoarsely. "But when I looked at you as a baby, and when I heard that prophecy, I saw a child who would one day bear a heavy burden no matter what I did. I had to choose between two different kinds of pain for you –suffering at the hands of your relatives for your entire childhood, or suffering for your entire _life_ with the knowledge that we could have won the war, saved hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives, had you lived with the Dursleys. And that knowledge _would_ have destroyed you, Harry. It's just the way you are.

"Of the two," Dumbledore continued, clearing his throat nervously, "I felt that you would more easily recover from the former than the latter."

"I understand your reasoning," Harry said quietly, and Hermione spun around to glare at him as Ron raised his eyebrows. "And if – if I'd been able to make the choice, that's – I hope that's what I would have chosen. But Headmaster, I _didn't_ make the choice. You made it for me, and took away–"

"I understand," the elderly man said quietly, and it seemed to Hermione, glancing back at the man, that he had aged more than thirty years before her very eyes. "I do not presume to ask for forgiveness, Harry."

This time, Harry smiled. "Try again in a few months, sir," he said softly, and Dumbledore's head shot up, the elderly man staring at Harry incredulously.

"I'm tired," Harry said quietly, looking at his parents and Remus. "May I be excused?"

Lily, James and Remus nodded. "Go ahead, all of you," James gestured at them, and Hermione sprang to her feet beside Harry, the trio quickly leaving the room, followed by Neville, Ginny and Luna. When the kitchen door had shut behind them, Lily smiled and James leaned forward, rolling his shirtsleeves up with one hand.

"Now," James began, "let's talk about how this school year is going to go, Headmaster…"

* * *

It was a very anxious Harry Potter that paced up and down in the Black family parlor, his friends sitting in chairs all around him. None of them had spoken since they had left the kitchen, and they were all anxiously awaiting the moment when Harry revealed what was on his mind. It was obvious to anyone who knew him that Harry was deep in thought about something – all that remained was to find out _what_.

"Do you know what this means?" he asked abruptly, and Hermione sat up.

"No," she said quietly, "what does it mean?"

Suddenly, Harry smiled. "It means I can win."

"We already knew that," Neville and Ron said as one, and Harry's smile widened.

"Yes," he replied, "perhaps. But I didn't."

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Lily Evans Potter leaned back in her chair, watching Dobby carefully. She had received an owl a moment earlier which she had found amusing, but desperately needed confirmation. However, out of courtesy to her husband, she waited until he, along with Remus, Tonks and Harry, was seated at the table before speaking up.

"Dobby?" she spoke slowly, and the house-elf immediately appeared at her side.

"Yes, Mistress Lily?" the excitable house-elf asked.

"I received some interesting news from Hogwarts this morning," she said calmly, lifting up her letter, "from Professor Flitwick. He told me something about Professor Snape."

At this, Harry, Remus and James immediately looked up hopefully, gazing at Dobby with expectant faces.

"Dobby, why was Professor Snape found dangling from the Quidditch posts early this morning?"

Harry choked, setting down the glass of orange juice he had just picked up, and quickly, Remus and James both patted him roughly on the back. After a few seconds, Harry settled down and the three men returned to watching Dobby hopefully.

"Because, Mistress Lily," Dobby replied earnestly, "no one is going out to the Quidditch Pitch last night. Professor Snapey is having to wait to be found."

"I see," Lily replied slowly. "And why was Professor Snape dangling from the Quidditch posts last night?"

"Because Dobby had to move Professor Snapey quickly or Professor Snapey would get hurt," Dobby answered.

"When he was in the kitchen?" Remus questioned, and Dobby nodded. "That was _days_ ago!"

"Only two," James replied, grinning broadly. "How is it, Dobby, that Snapey wasn't found in that time?"

This time, the house-elf had the grace to be ashamed. "Dobby makes Snapey invisible, he does," Dobby said in low tones. "Dobby is hiding Snapey, so he won't be found, he is…"

"Why?" Lily asked tiredly as a smile blossomed on Remus's face. "And _when_?"

"Dobby is making Professor Snapey invisible when Master Harry Potter and his friends go looking for Mistress Lily and Master James," Dobby replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "And Dobby must be getting Snapey back to Hoggywarts for Snapey's own protection, and must be going quickly. Dobby is hearing that Hoggywarts looks pretty from up there, Mistress. Dobby is merely wanting to share and protect." The house-elf smiled. "Professor Snapey is not appreciating. Is saying vile things, he is."

"Is Snapey?" Remus grinned yet again. "Dobby, I could kiss you."

The house-elf looked horrified. "Oh no, Master Remus, that is not being proper!"

"He was kidding, Dobby," Harry quickly assured the house-elf. "But Dobby – thank you."

The house-elf's eyes quickly filled with tears. "Harry Potter is _thanking_ Dobby! Dobby is not deserving – Harry Potter is good and brave and noble and kind and–"

"So are you," Harry replied with a grin, and Dobby froze mid-sentence, gaping at the black-haired wizard.

"My goodness, he made the little guy stop talking," Tonks breathed in shock, and moments later, Dobby burst into joyful tears.

"No, Dobby, get off – Dobby, I _need_ that leg – Dobby! Mum – Dad – Remus – Tonks – anyone – help!"

Chuckling, all four rose and left Harry to Dobby's mercies.

* * *

They appeared directly in Bones's office, wands at the ready even as they landed. A quick sweep of the room showed no one hiding and no recording or eavesdropping devices of any kind. Letting out a sigh of relief, Remus dropped into a nearby chair and covered his hands. "This isn't going to be pretty," he murmured tiredly, and Lily knelt beside him.

"It will be fine, Remus," Lily soothed, taking his hand, "Amelia Bones does not allow prejudices to affect her work. Not in things like this."

"I certainly hope not," James muttered darkly, "or we'll have to pull Harry out of Hogwarts, and somehow convince the Grangers, Weasleys, Augusta Longbottom and Otto Lovegood to do the same. I don't look forward to _that_ conversation…"

"We could easily tutor them or hire tutors effective enough," Lily replied with an absent wave of her hand. "Their educations would likely be better than what they'll receive at Hogwarts."

"You could just go without me–"

"_NO_!" Lily and James both shouted immediately, and James, his face flushed, calmed first.

"We're not leaving you behind, Remus, even _if_ you have Tonks now," James said quietly. "We just got you both back. Don't ask us to give you up."

Remus gazed at him as the door opened and a woman with a monocle walked in.

"Ah, good, you're here. The Portkey worked, I assume?" Without waiting for an answer, the woman dug a vial from her pocket. "I must verify your identities, as I'm certain you understand."

Lily and James stiffened but nodded even as Remus straightened up, rising form his chair.

"We'll start with you, sir," Amelia Bones gestured to James, who immediately dropped into the chair Remus had vacated. A moment later, three drops of Veritaserum had been placed on James's tongue and Bones leaned against her desk with her arms folded, her eyes never once leaving James as two Aurors filed in to the room.

"Auror Tonks, Auror Shacklebolt," Bones commanded in a deep, booming voice, "please restrain Mrs. Potter and Mr. Lupin." The two Aurors nodded immediately, Tonks taking Lily's arm and Kingsley taking Remus's. The moment Bones turned away, Tonks grinned at Remus and winked. Lily and Remus barely bit back exasperated sighs.

"What is your name?" Bones asked James sternly.

"James Harold Potter IV," James replied in a robotic voice, and Bones blinked.

"Where have you been for the past fifteen years?" she continued, and Lily flinched.

A long silence followed before James replied, "I cannot say."

"Why not?"

"I cannot say."

"Were you in the service of the Dark Lord, Voldemort?"

"No."

"Have you ever served the Dark Lord Voldemort?"

"No."

"Have you ever knowingly aided the Dark Lord Voldemort?"

"No."

Straightening up, Bones glared at Lily. "I suppose you cannot say, either?"

"Yes, Madam Bones," Lily agreed before taking a seat next to her husband. A moment later, Bones recited the same list of questions, received the same answers save the name of Lily Marie Evans Potter, and reacted in the same manner.

"Lupin! Or whoever you are," Bones boomed, "you're next."

James stirred in his seat as Remus's expression changed to one of panic. "Madam Bones, you mustn't!" James pleaded. "He's allergic to–"

"Ah, that's right," Bones murmured softly, her mouth twisting in a grimace. "I had forgotten. Veritaserum is toxic to your kind, is it not?"

Remus nodded grimly even as Lily, beginning to recover from the serum, spluttered in indignation at Bones's phrasing.

"Pity," Bones murmured, blinking rapidly. "Very well, Mr. and Mrs. Potter; how would you like to approach your return to the Wizarding World?"

"We have a reporter friend we can speak to," Lily replied, still glaring at Madam Bones. "She'll see to it that we're announced."

"Very well, then," Madam Bones agreed as a sly smile slid across James's face. "Enjoy your day, Mr. and Mrs. Potter." Completely ignoring Remus, she rose to her feet. "Shacklebolt, escort them out. Auror Tonks," she added harshly, "stay a minute."

Kingsley glanced at Tonks worriedly before leading the Potters and Remus from the room. Tonks didn't look up, her gaze firmly fixed on her boss's face, and Bones stared steadily back at Tonks. Neither one noticed the messy, black-haired head that poked back around the door, nor the sparkling hazel eyes that smirked at the older woman. Satisfied for now, James and Remus ambled away, James idly blowing imaginary smoke off his wand as they sauntered after Lily and Kingsley.

"Auror Tonks," Bones began icily. "If you think I did not notice the way you looked at Lupin, you are many times the fool."

"I was not aware, Director," Tonks replied evenly, "that my personal life is any of your business."

"It is when you're lowering yourself to such–" Bones exploded, but Tonks cut her off.

"Lowering myself to _what_?" she demanded angrily. "Madam Bones, I am _not_ consorting with a Death Eater! Anything more than that is none of your concern!"

"He's a Lycanthrope!" Bones snarled.

"I know what he is!" Tonks shouted. "But more than that, I know _who_ he is! And he's worth it!"

"Is he really?" Bones replied sarcastically. "I certainly hope so, Auror Tonks. You know the penalty if you choose to marry that – that–"

She froze, her face flushed, breathing heavily, and stared at Tonks. Suddenly, she began blinking, her eyes watering, and shuddered. Something flashed in her eyes – rage, Tonks assumed – then immediately disappeared.

"That _what_?" Tonks asked in a deadly quiet voice. "Say it. Go on."

"I-if you marry that _beast_," Bones spat, "your contract will be forfeit."

Tonks closed her eyes, her outrage slowly dissipating into exhaustion. "Madam Bones, the world would be a much better place if there were no bigots holding public office."

"You will hold your tongue, Auror!" Bones shouted. "One more comment from you and you'll be on suspension!"

Slowly opening her eyes, Tonks gazed at the woman steadily. "Is that all, ma'am?" she asked lightly, and Bones growled.

"Go," the woman ordered, and Tonks nodded in acknowledgement and turned on her heel.

"Oh and, Auror," Bones began as Tonks reached for the door, "if I find out that Lupin is living with the Potter boy, I'll have the werewolf and Potter's parents hauled in for neglect and child endangerment charges. After fifteen years of abandonment, it would certainly be easy enough. And if I find out you know about it, I'll toss you in Azkaban with all three of them."

Immediately, Tonks forced down her rage. "I don't know where Remus lives, ma'am," she smiled sweetly. "We only ever spend the night at my place."

With that, she left the office, smiling in fierce pleasure at Bones's outraged spluttering. A moment later, Kingsley and Hestia Jones emerged from a nearby office.

"Come on," Hestia said softly, taking Tonks's arm and steering her down the hall. "I have this old lamp my aunt gave me last Christmas – honestly, I gave it to her for her birthday five years ago! You can take your frustration out on it."

The three Aurors ducked into Hestia's office, Kingsley chuckling all the while, and moment's later, the unmistakable sounds of a Blasting Hex echoed off the walls.

* * *

"James! Lily!" Rita Skeeter exclaimed, rushing up to the front doors, and she stood there, beaming at them, as the couple made their way up the steps. "What an absolute _honor_ to meet you! I've met your son several times, you know; such a _brave_ boy, he never once shed a tear during our interview back during the Tournament, though I could tell he was close. Come in, come in! We can talk in my office!"

Lily and James were quickly ushered up three flights of stairs and into the back corner. As soon as the door had shut behind them, Rita smiled and settled happily behind her desk.

"Your son got this for me," Skeeter smiled. "Cushy corner office, my own secretary – media's a stormy business, my friends, your luck can change in a heartbeat. We're all lucky that your son knew he could trust me."

"Because his best friend discovered that you're an illegal Animagus," James pointed out, sititng in a chair across from Skeeter's desk.

The reporter's brilliant smile dimmed for a moment before she laughed, waving her hand absently. "Details, details!" she exclaimed. "Whatever his reasons, Harry came to me after the interview he had with me the year before. Obviously, he knew he was getting the best." Neither James nor Lily replied. "And such a _brave_ dear, giving up his parents like that so they could fight for the greater good, having to pretend all the while that they were dead–"

"Yes, well, Harry's a strong boy," Lily replied impatiently. "Could we get to the interview, please, madam? Harry, James and I have a great deal of catching up to do."

"Of course, of course!" Skeeter replied, wiping crocodile tears from her eyes. "What a beautiful reunion you must have had – it warms my heart to see things finally going right for the boy."

She sniffled dramatically before riffling through her crocodile skin handbag, quickly extracting a lurid green quill. "Now," she smiled brightly, "where do we begin?"

"We begin," James said, eyeing the quill dubiously, "by putting that away." He reached into his robe pockets and withdrew a phoenix feather quill. "And using this. A gift," he added, smiling at the woman, "for all you've done for Harry."

Skeeter frowned momentarily before regaining her bright smile, carefully taking the quill from James. "Thank you!" she exclaimed quickly. "You shouldn't have. Is it genuine?" she asked, fingering the gold tip of the quill.

"Of course," Lily replied evenly.

"It's a lovely gift," Skeeter murmured. "Just lovely." Clearing her throat, she straightened up, the phoenix feather quill held carefully in her hand. "Now," she smiled brightly, "tell me everything."

An hour later, the Potters left the _Daily Prophet_ building, walking down Diagon Alley in broad daylight without any disguise.

"Okay, Potter," Lily said sternly as people gasped and veered quickly out of their way, screaming about ghosts, "out with it. What did you do to that quill?"

Smirking, James looked down at his wife and replied, "Absolutely nothing. It's a political situation, you see – an even better prank. Skeeter will have to use that quill now, or we'll be ever so upset, you see. Not to mention, phoenix feather quills are extremely rare – a phoenix has to give up the feathers for a quill willingly, so there are no stores which sell them. There aren't any phoenixes which will be willing to hang around and be plucked to make quills, you see. So not only will she have to use it, but she'll have to use it in public, where she can brag about the quill and from whom it was a gift. Which means," James grinned broadly, "she won't be able to use that Quick Quotes Quill of hers all the time. A few of her articles may actually be factual every now and again."

Pausing midstep, Lily turned to stare at her husband. "And you did all this without a single spell?" James nodded, and she smiled sweetly. "Mr. Potter, I absolutely _love_ the way you think."

"Really?" James waggled his eyebrows. "Well in that case, why don't we just–"

"I have a date tonight, James," Lily said calmly, and James stared at her.

"_What_?"

"With our son," she continued before turning on her heel and walking off.

"Oh. Hey, I'm coming too, aren't I? Lily? Lily!"

Smiling serenely, Lily led her flustered husband to Ollivander's shop.

_Prongs: 0, Evans: 1_.

* * *

They perched on the edge of his bed, watching him carefully as he leaned back against the wall.

"We don't know what to say, Harry," Lily murmured finally.

Though only two days had passed since Lily and James had visited Harry's memories, the two had felt it was better to have a heart-to-heart with their son sooner rather than later. But somehow, they were finding that that was easier said than done.

"We didn't know," James said tightly, and Harry looked up at him. "You're aware that we didn't know, aren't you?"

Harry nodded, smiling slightly for a moment. "It was a bit obvious," he murmured, and Lily choked out a laugh.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Lily and James looked nervously from their son to each other. "I hate this!" Lily burst out suddenly, and her son and husband jumped. "We're tip-toeing around each other like absolute strangers! I hate it!"

"Technically speaking, Lily, we _are_ strangers," James pointed out sadly. "It's only been two days."

Lily ignored him. "We saw your memories," she said shrilly. "Why won't you _talk_ to us? Have you talked to your friends about the – the – about my _sister_?"

Harry looked away. "A – A bit," he said softly, and Lily glared at him.

"That means no," she replied angrily. "Harry, you need to open up to somebody. If it's not us, at least talk to Hermione, but _please_, Harry," she whispered. "We want to help you."

For several minutes, Harry didn't reply. Instead, he stared at the wall opposite them, the flickering in his eyes showing that he was reliving things long passed.

"I remember when I was three," he said finally, "the – the Dursleys started making me do the weeding in the garden then – they said I was big enough. One day when I came inside, I accidentally tracked dirt, and there was this worm that fell out of my clothes – A Petunia hit me with a skillet and tossed me into the cupboard. That is, she literally picked me up and threw me."

Hesitantly, James reached out and placed an arm around Harry's shoulder, and smiled as the boy leaned into him. Heartened by her husband's success, Lily scooted across the bed and began playing with Harry's hair as she leaned against the wall beside him.

"I'm – I'm glad they're dead," Harry said, swallowing convulsively. "They hurt me so much, but worst of all, they made me think that I _deserved_ it, for a while. They – they should have loved me, and they didn't. And I'm glad they're dead. What does that make me?"

"Human," Lily replied. "It makes you human. Listen to me!" she said roughly as Harry

looked away, and moving forward on the bed, she seized his shoulders and turned him so that he was facing her. "Your father and I are glad they're dead. We _want_ them dead. What does that make _us_? When we heard that you'd been living with them, our first thoughts were about how to _repay_ them for their treatment of you. Dudley's fate is a sad one, because he was a product of his environment. His parents made him what he was – they took advantage of his gullibility, of his ignorance and of his age to make him into the bully you knew. But as for Vernon and Petunia, they got what they deserved."

"It's only natural to be grateful that they can never hurt you again, son," James said quietly, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "It's certainly nothing to be ashamed of."

Silently, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and flinched. "I miss Sirius," he whispered, and Lily's heart broke.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured, gathering him into his arms, and finally, for the first time since the night of Sirius's death, he began to weep.

A soft thud sounded outside the door, and slowly, James rose to his feet. "Did Tonks go to her apartment?" he asked, and Lily nodded. Taking a deep breath, James opened the door and looked down.

There Remus stood, his tail wagging uncertainly as he gazed up at his only true living friend. The werewolf looked passed James to Harry, whimpering softly, and James smiled.

"Have you taken your Wolfsbane, old boy?" he asked, and Remus barked in agreement. Chuckling slightly, he pulled the door open and Remus padded in, leaping up onto the bed. The werewolf settled himself beside Harry, whining softly, and rested his head on Harry's legs. James climbed back up onto the bed, sitting down beside his friend, and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders again.

Hours later, Harry finally drifted off to sleep, his head pillowed in Lily's lap. The Marauders' Queen – as Peter had once called her, to his immediate dismay – idly ran her fingers through Harry's hair and leaned back against her husband, her eyes closed. Remus licked Harry's face three times before curling up at the foot of the bed, his ears down and relaxed but his gaze steady and alert. Eventually, all of the Potters had fallen asleep, and Remus rose to his feet, leaping off the bed, and went to nudge the bedroom door shut. He sat by the door, guarding his sleeping family, with every intent of slipping back to his own room before dawn.

They couldn't see – especially Harry. He wouldn't allow it.

* * *

Arthur Weasley watched his wife nervously as they readied for bed. He had been observing her bubbling cheer for hours that day – from the time the children had returned from visiting Harry, she had been exuding happiness and energy. But Arthur knew his wife, and he knew when she was hiding something. Molly knew there was something going on, and she was none too happy about being kept in the dark.

Nor, he realized, was she happy about their daughter's new relationship. Ginny and Neville had announced that they were dating at dinner that evening – Neville with a panicked glance at Ginny's five brothers in attendance at the meal – and though Molly had acted as though she were happy for them, Arthur had seen it in her eyes.

Neville wasn't Harry. And in Molly's mind, that meant he wasn't good enough for their daughter.

What he had to tell her was not going to help her mood any, but he could not delay any longer.

"Molly, dear?" Arthur began anxiously, and she turned around and smiled at him. "Er… I have something to tell you. And you – may not like it."

His wife's expression immediately darkened. "Is it about that new secretary in your office?" she spat angrily, her face turning red, and Arthur stared at her.

"Molly, I wish you would not be so insecure," he said heavily after a moment. "I would _never_ do that to you."

His wife's face fell. "I'm sorry, Arthur," she sniffled. "I'm just so–"

"I know," he said gently, "just please, Molly, think better of me." When his wife continued to sniffle, he continued. "It's about Harry, and it's a very good thing, for him. Unfortunately, it means that our relationship with him may change."

"What?" Molly straightened up immediately, her face paling. "What is it, Arthur? What's happened?"

Arthur stood for several moments in silent contemplation before, finally, choosing to use Hermione's – rather blunt – approach. "We found his parents."

"Oh, the poor dear!" Molly cried. "His parents' bodies? Had they been dug up? Did You-Know-Who turn them into Inferi? Oh, how dreadful!"

"No, no, Molly, that's not it!" Arthur cut in quickly, and he grabbed his wife's arm, stilling her frantic pacing. "Molly, we found _his parents_. They _never died_."

Silence.

"No," Molly said tremulously. "No, Arthur, the Potters are dead. They died heroically, saving that poor dear from You-Know-Who, and Harry is an _orphan_. I won't have you confusing him like this. I _won't have it_, do you hear me?"

"They're at Grimmauld Place right now," Arthur continued, ignoring the blow his wife had just struck at him. "Amelia Bones confirmed their identities using Veritaserum. It's real, Molly. They're alive."

"A-alive?" Molly whispered, rocking back on her heels, and Arthur watched her anxiously. "_HOW DARE THEY?_" she erupted suddenly, and Arthur stepped back in shock. "Why, I'll tear them apart! I'll _bathe_ in their blood! I'll–"

"MOLLY!" Arthur shouted, and his wife fell into startled silence. "They didn't know."

"What do you mean, they–"

"They weren't killed fighting V-voldemort," Arthur swallowed, "protecting Harry. But they were knocked unconscious. And when they awoke, Dumbledore told them that Harry was dead, and Remus and Sirius as well – he sent them away and trapped them in Godric's Hollow, surrounded by wards layered with memory charms. And he told everyone else–"

"That the Potters had died," Molly whispered, stricken. "Oh lord, Arthur, why?"

Arthur swallowed convulsively. This was the hardest part…

"You remember that I was guarding something on occasion last year, Molly?" When his wife nodded, Arthur continued, "It was a prophecy. About Harry and V-voldemort. It says that Harry has to kill Voldemort, and that no one else can do it. And it says that if Harry doesn't kill V-voldemort, then V-voldemort will kill him. This is _top secret_, Molly. No one must know. Now, apparently, there was another line… which practically guaranteed Harry's victory if he were raised in an… unpleasant home."

"The Dursleys," Molly murmured, and Arthur nodded. "I don't know what to think. Oh, that poor, poor boy."

Smiling sadly, Arthur climbed into the bed and pulled his wife into his arms.

She wept half the night.

* * *

Severus Snape paced restlessly in his rooms, glaring through the darkness. His arms and behind were still horribly sore, and glancing down, he could still see the red marks on his palms from clinging to the goal posts. Hesitantly, he rubbed his thumb over the marks on one palm and winced – they still stung.

But not quite as much as his pride.

In less than two days, he was taken down by first a house-elf, then Evans.

_Snapey_ _is staying here_, the foul creature's voice echoed in his mind. _Snapey_ _is being found… eventually. But Snapey is not leaving until Snapey is found. Dobby makes certain. _

And then…

_Pitiful._ _Clear your mind_.

Her voice rang through his mind, again and again, judging him, finding him wanting – casting him aside without a second thought. Making a ruthless attack upon his mind – the only thing left sacred for him. The only thing he still controlled in his life.

Clearly, the Mudblood thought she was getting vengeance for her son.

_An eye for an eye_, he remembered her saying once. She had denounced the idea, as a child, without a second thought.

As a woman, evidently, she relished it.

_An eye for an eye_, he thought again, and her voice whispered across his mind.

_Pitiful._ _Clear your mind. _

He sneered. _Alright, Evans, _he thought coldly, _if that's the way you want to play it…_

She'd wounded him for her son. That maniac elf had wounded him for her blasted son.

An eye for an eye indeed.

He ran before he could change his mind, racing through the halls of Hogwarts and out onto the grounds. Moving swiftly, he disappeared into the Forbidden Forest and Disapparated with a quiet _pop_.

He appeared again at the base of a hill, beside a sign that read "Little Hangleton". His robes billowing around his body, he strode up the hill and knocked o the door of an old, rotting mansion. A moment later, the door was pulled open and Snape stepped through the doorway, sneering at the man before him.

"Tell our Master that I bring news," he drawled, and the man hurried off. Not two minutes later, he returned, gesturing for Snape to follow him.

They stopped before a door on the second floor, and nervously, Snape pushed the door open with a creak. Inside, he could see a large chair silhouetted against the flickering flames of the hearth against the opposite wall. A tall, thin frame emerged from the chair and turned to face him, and Snape gazed at the Dark Lord.

"Severussss…," Voldemort hissed. "Welcome. Avery says you have news for me?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied immediately. "The Mudblood girl's parents are traveling in Greece – on a second honeymoon," he sneered. "They are unprotected."

Voldemort's eyes gleamed. "Sit, Severus," he ordered, and with a wave of his wand, he summoned a chair from the opposite side of the room.

Nearly trembling in relief, Snape did as ordered.

* * *

**A/N**: Several things. First of all, I'm very sorry that updating took me such a long time. Suffice it to say that school was very difficult in the last month, and I barely had time to breathe, let alone write. Second, I'm sorry it took so long to get this up _today_ - as some of you may know, the Document Manager has a very long temper tantrum.

Finally, to everybody who is going to review telling me that Amelia Bones is out of character - because I know some of you will - _don't_. If you see her as out of character and cannot figure out why, go back and reread that scene. _Carefully_. Pay more attention to her actions than her words - I will give you no more hint than that. The clues are there, folks. Find them.

As always, review if you have something to say. Thank you all very much for your patience.

Cheers,  
**LIZ **


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